Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?
by theUglySpirit
Summary: "Hello, beautiful," Dally is saying when you step up to his side. For a second you think he's saying it to you, and you scowl. You wouldn't know what to do if that ever was to happen. Not that you have to worry- he's saying it to a car.
1. Chapter 1

I owe it all to SE Hinton and Lucero, two great tastes that go great together.

Rated T for language and age-appropriate sexual innuendo. I promise I'll try real hard to write a story without illegal drug use in it. It's going to hurt me more than it hurts you.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

_Hey, darlin', do you gamble?_

'_Cuz I'm running on the inside track_

_And I'm taking all that I can and never looking back_

_Now I believe you should run with me for a while_

_-Lucero_

Late August, 1965

One-

You pass Dallas Winston in the otherwise empty hall. He's headed towards the main doors- one might say he's stalking towards them. He already has a cigarette in his mouth ready to light as soon as he hits the steps.

You're headed in- late- looking like a train hit you.

"Where you going, Dal?"

"Anywhere but here. O'Donnell threw me out, the bitch. That's it, I quit, I'm movin' on, fuckers."

You can't get much more cavalier then quoting Sam Cooke when you're looking at your last-chance expulsion from high school only two weeks into the school year. You don't know who Dally thinks he's fooling. Now what's he going to do all day?

He offers you the opportunity to find out.

"What're you doing? Come on, let's blow this joint."

You shake your head.

"I'm just coming in. Missed American History already. I got to make it to English- there's a quiz."

He whines, "Come on, loser. Let's go make some American history. With or without you, I'm out of here."

You turn back and squint at the clock down the hall.

"Period's half over, Dal. Can't you just hang on? I'll bail just as soon as I take this quiz."

"Where am I supposed to hang out? They'll call the cops if they find me in the building."

_Jesus, what'd he do?_ You wonder.

"Just go across the street. It's twenty minutes, man. You can hang tight for twenty minutes, can you?"

No, he can't. You know that. If Dally was wound any tighter he'd screw himself through the floor.

"Whatever," you tell him. "Just go. I got to take this quiz."

"Suit yourself," he says and walks through the doors, towards his own misguided version of freedom. You know there's nothing waiting for him there but Tulsa.

The thought must occur to him too by the time he gets across the parking lot. When you look up from your quiz and out the window of Mrs. Detwieler's room, Dally's waiting across the street. He's leaning against the bus stop sign, smoking. You hand in your quiz, and when the bell rings, you walk out into the hall, past your locker, and towards the doors.

Dally sees you and starts walking. You have to jog to catch up.

"Changed your mind?" You ask, snatching his cigarette from his hand.

"This is no kind of a town for a little boy to be roaming all alone," he says and winks. He would know. Dally's been on his own here since he was old enough to walk out the front door of his father's place by himself. He's fickle about wanting company. He'd never let on that he needed it. Sometimes, he disappears for weeks. Then, he just turns up and says "let's go to a game" or "let's hit the Admiral Twin, see what's shaking".

Usually, it's not you he's saying it to though. He must be especially lonely today, and he must not be with Sylvia.

"So what are we doing?" You ask.

"I don't know. We need a car."

"Why do we need a car if you don't know what we're doing?"

"Because if I'm driving, something will come to me. It'll be like having a mystical vision."

"If it's from your driving, it'll probably be as a result of a head injury."

"Why don't you fuck off and go back to school? Can _you_ drive?"

"Nope. They won't teach me."

"Then that's what we're going to do. I'm going to teach you how to drive. I hope you're a fast learner."

"You mean you're going to steal a car and let me drive so that if we get caught I'm the one who gets busted."

He takes the cigarette back. "Pretty much, yeah."

You walk forever, though. Dally's small but he's light on his feet. He can outrun anything that wants to give chase. He can climb damn-near anything, too. He has yet to try to take you climbing anything on this journey, but it's still early.

You walk to the train station. You buy a cup of coffee for yourself and one for a bum who is sitting outside with a sign that reads "Anything Helps".

Dally smirks. "But some things help more than others."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You take it as an insult to your coffee.

"Give him a blow job. See if that helps." He taunts you.

You refuse to give him any more reaction than a roll of the eyes. Sylvia would cuss him out and/or hit him with her purse. You figured out a long time ago that this is why Dally likes Sylvia better than you. He gets more reaction from her. In Dally's mind, any reaction is a good reaction- even if it's being hit with a purse. The more of a show, the better.

Maybe he doesn't like Sylvia _better_, though. He just likes you in a different way. He gets a charge out of Sylvia. You don't know what he gets from you, but it must be something if he's willing to wait for you outside of Will Rogers for a whole twenty minutes while you finish a quiz.

Whether it's to prove Dally wrong or save your feelings, the bum tells you, "Thank you. Anything helps."

You say "you're welcome" and hurry to catch up with Dally. The bum's response is lost on him.

"Hello, beautiful," Dally is saying when you step up to his side. For a second you think he's saying it to you, and you scowl. You wouldn't know what to do if that ever was to happen. Not that you have to worry- he's saying it to a car. It's a late model Ford. Faded maroon- a granny color- with a dent in the front fender where Granny must have kissed the garage pulling in or out.

"Yeah, beautiful, Dal," you say.

"What do you want? A new Corvette? This is perfect. I'll tell you what you want, kid. You want to not get caught, right? Well, no one's going to look twice as this little beauty crawling down the Ribbon. Shit, I bet she can't even top fifty. She's perfect. Inconspicuous."

"And the keys are in it?"

"Jackpot."

You start around to the driver's side. He pulls you back by the sleeve.

"What're you doing?"

"I thought I was driving?"

"No way. You said you can't drive. I'm driving us out of town."

"We're going out of town?"

An image of Sylvia flashes before your eyes. She's angry. Her fingertips are dipped red with your blood. You broke the bounds of Tulsa with her old man- in a car- and she's fit to be tied. The rest of the vision is foggy, but you think perhaps you see Dally standing behind her, smirking, amused.

"No, we're going to drive around and around this parking lot in a stolen car. Just up north, by the stables. Then we can dump it and go to Bucks."

"And go to Bucks?"

"Yeah, someone will be at Bucks who can give you a ride back to friendly turf. Unless you want to stay and have a drink with me and Shepard."

He has to rub that in. You can't look Tim Shepard in the eye without turning beet-bloody red. In Tim Shepard's presence you become inarticulate and trip over things that aren't there. He's just another guy like Dally, and you've known Dally forever, so it shouldn't matter. Dally doesn't look like Tim Shepard, though.

"Asshole. Just drive then."

He opens the door and hops in, cackling. You walk around to the passenger side and open your own door.

Dally turns the key in the ignition. The engine is quiet, well-tuned. He raises an eyebrow at you and nods, demanding your approval. You shut your door. Dally puts it in reverse and backs out of the parking space with surprising restraint. He waits a couple of blocks more before he really puts the pedal down to find out whether the Ford can really top fifty.

"So why were you so late?"

You don't want to talk about it.

"Missed my ride."

"Two-Bit? His car wouldn't start?"

"Yeah," you say. It's a lie. It was Soda's turn to drive, but last night Soda came to the dinner table and without fanfare informed Darry that he wasn't going back to school. Fanfare ensured. Darry hit the roof.

Dally carries on, ignoring your lack of an explanation. "Now that's a lousy car. Of course, any car that Mathew's touches is going to become lousy just 'cause he touched it. Mathew's got no touch with cars…"

"Nope," you say.

"What?" He says.

It's a damned miracle that he notices at all. It's a damned strange the tone he uses too. It's the same "what?" he gives Sylvia whenever she's pouting about something. He doesn't really want to hear all about what the "what" is. He just wants to know how he can make the pouting stop.

"When's it my turn?" You ask.

"When I say it's your turn. Why the face? Is it 'cause I ain't mentioned Shepard in a whole five minutes?"

"Get bent."

He is gleeful. He nods again, granting himself approval for being such a pain in the ass.

"I know how you love my stories about Shepard. _Oh…tell me more, Dally…what did Tim do then_? All right, come on. What?"

"I'm just nervous is all. I don't want to wreck this precision machine that you stole for me."

"I didn't steal it for you. I stole it for me. I'm just letting you drive it."

"Whatever. I'd hate to put a dent in your latest acquisition."

"Just put it in that side," he points to the right fender. "Then it'll match."

Dally merges the Ford on to the Cherokee and you head north. You pass the Pine Street Exit and a chicken-shit little piece of you glances back at it, nervously yearning to bail and go home.

The buildings and- to your relief- the other cars thin out. There are more trees here. The grass seems greener, not sparse and dead like in your own front yard. Kids just a little older than you make this drive every evening looking for secluded spots to make out. You know Soda does with Sandy. No one's ever asked you. Dally's not asking you now. You're pretty confident of that.

You don't if it's the thought of that or the idea of being behind the wheel of a thousand pound piece of metal machinery that makes your heart skip when Dally pulls off into an empty lot.

You stay still in your seat. Only your eyes move to regard him through your bangs.

"Christ," he says. "You look sick."

"I told you, I'm just nervous."

"Why you nervous?" He asks, and then grins. "Afraid I'll tell Shepard?"

"Enough with him all ready."

"Come on, maybe he'll offer to teach you to drive. Tim's very thorough, I hear. He'll give you a tour of the back and everything."

"You _hear_? Or you know that from experience?"

Dally cackles. He puts the car in park and opens his door.

"Your chariot awaits, kid," he says. He gets out and you slide over in front of the steering wheel.

This is your father's fault. He wouldn't teach you when you begged him at fourteen and fifteen, and now Darry thinks this is something he needs to carry on. Your father would have given in eventually. Darry will never give in.

Dally bounces in next to you and slams his door.

"Check your mirrors," he tells you.

"Did you check the mirrors before you got in?"

"Shut up. No, but I don't need 'em anymore."

You check your mirrors. Dally fiddles with the radio. Granny was listening to something with a religious bend to it. Neither you nor Dally wants to hear about how fire and brimstone awaits the wicked while you drive around in a stolen car. He changes the station, curses the Beatles, and changes it again. Satisfied with Bo Diddley, tells you to put your foot on the brake and put it in drive.

You follow his instructions. He sits and smokes. You take your foot off the brake and the car jumps forward. You brake again. Dally grins out the window, shaking his head.

"Shut up," you tell him.

"Okay, slow and easy. I'd make an analogy, but I know you don't know anything about that kind of thing…"

"God," you grumble. The car begins to roll again. You put your foot on the accelerator and press down with more ease this time.

"Rodeo, kid. I was talking about rodeo. I know you don't know anything about riding bulls or the like…"

"Please, shut up…"

"Well, since you said 'please'…"

"Where am I going? Tell me that, and then shut the hell up."

He gestures with his cigarette.

"The road is yours, McQueen. We need to end up at Buck's. I hardly give a damn how we get there."

_A/N: That's right, cynics and naysayers- you just started reading a CurtisSisterFic. Sit back and let Mommy show you how it's done. _


	2. Chapter 2

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Dallas Winston.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

The same day in August 1965

Two-

You're lost. So is Dally. He'd be blaming it on you but he's tired of fighting. You're north of Tulsa, but the town is like a castle with its drawbridge brought up. You can see it glittering from the ridge below, but you can't find a way back in.

The sun is setting below the hood of Granny's Ford. The paint is dull and the sunlight doesn't give much of a glare. Even so, you squint. If Dally was to look at you, you want to give the impression that you're thinking real hard. In truth, you've given up. You're driving without hope.

"Eleven's got to be up here pretty soon," you say. You're positive that if you say it one more time Dally will slug you.

"Keep telling yourself that, Magellan," he growls. "In fact, say it just once more. I dare you."

"You know, you're goddamn welcome to trade me places anytime you like. Maybe you'll get one of those mystic visions you were talking about. It will come to you in a blinding flash of light."

He gestures. "Yeah, sure. Pull on over and let's trade places."

"You'd probably peel out and leave me."

He smirks at that. "You're spending too much time with Sylvia. Need to put a stop to that. What'd you go and cut if off for anyway- just to piss off Darry? Shit, I could've helped you out there. Popped us a couple of beers on your porch. That's all it would have took, and you'd never had to touch your hair."

_That was January. Your parents were dead two weeks, but they were still waiting on stabs in purgatory at the morgue. They wouldn't be buried till spring when the ground thawed out._

_It was Darry's birthday, but you forgot about that. You all forgot about Darry's birthday. When he became your parent instead of your big brother, it was like he ceased having birthdays. He didn't get older. He was just old._

_So, it didn't mean anything that you did it on his birthday. He assumed that it did and wondered out loud "why do you do these things to me?", but it really had nothing to do with him. It was your parents, or sudden lack of them, that inspired you. You wanted to go back to school after break reinvented. You wanted an identity, and one that wasn't The Girl Whose Parents Died._

_Going to Sylvia was very much on purpose. You busted your piggy bank and walked yourself down to the salon where you knew she was working. You laid a picture of Jean Seberg down in front of her and said, "that"._

_And she said, "You have got to be shitting me."_

_No, you were not shitting her. You loved Jean Seberg in "Breathless" even though it was an old movie and your mom once said Patricia and Michel were immature. It was just Michel who was immature, you believed. Patricia had a job, and an apartment. She spoke French. She had the best clothes, and she had the best hair. It takes a hell of a woman to pull of that hair, you figured._

_Even Sylvia Ryan wasn't that woman, but she was a hell of a lot of woman in a million other ways. She was older than Dally and you liked the way he feared her. He'd never admit it, but she scared the hell out of him, and that's why he kept going back. He said she cheated on him, but you had to wonder if maybe she didn't consider him to even be a boyfriend. He was just a kid she was fooling with like you were a kid and Dally hinted at fooling around with you._

_You and Dally, you and him were still playing Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. The two of you had adventures skipping school, but he went to Sylvia for something else. It couldn't be the perfect hair and the nails and the make-up because Dally wouldn't care about those things. It was that sidewalk damned-near caught fire when the woman set foot on it. Sylvia was electric and Dally couldn't figure out how to harness that electricity._

_Sylvia was exactly the person you wanted cutting your hair. You wanted to observe her while she did it. You wanted to learn from her and walk out of that salon with a lot less hair, but twice the attitude._

_Sylvia was not so sure. She brushed your hair for a long time. She brushed it down over the back of the chair and sighed. Then she brushed your bangs back._

"_Shit," she said. "Black hair and green eyes. Like Scarlett O'Hara."_

_You'd never thought of it that way. No one ever said that. They always say "just like Darry". Sylvia was clever. You smiled at her._

"_Never done that cut before? You want someone else to do it? I mean, if you're not comfortable."_

_It was a brave move. She was the wielding the scissors. She could have cut your throat. You'd have never been able to move in time to stop her._

_Sylvia smirked. _

"_Get yourself comfortable, little girl," she told you. "And no crying now. When it's gone, it's gone."_

_And Sylvia cut your hair. Just like Jean Seberg. She put something in it to make it lay nice. She even admitted that you had the perfect hair for the cut because there's just a little bit of wave. She told you to hold still and fixed up your eyebrows, too._

"_Wow," she said, leaning over to look eye-level at you. "I think I hate you. You can actually pull it off. I sure never could."_

_You paid her and gave her a tip. She told you not to spend all your money at once. Actually, she told you not to blow your wad on this. It dawned on you what that meant about two days later._

"_You know you're going to be seeing me every three weeks from now until the end of eternity." She said._

_You nodded and tried not to smile like a goon. That was just fine by you._

"Check your mirrors," Dally tells you again.

You look up into the rearview and your stomach turns to stone.

You can see the lights coming up on the road behind you. At first, they're a flicker against the gray of the blacktop. They could just be the setting sun glinting off the roof of another car. Then, as they get closer- disappearing in a dip in the road and then appearing again- the distinct red and blue flashes become apparent.

"Dal," you say. When you don't look at him, instead craning your neck to watch through the rearview, he leans to see out the side mirror first. Then he turns around to look out the back.

"Aw, fuck me," he whispers. He turns back around to face the road ahead.

"Gun it, kid," he says.

"And go where?"

"Just gun it. They're a good quarter mile back. We can lose him."

"You said this thing couldn't top fifty."

"Well, let's find out."

You look at him, and then turn around to look for the lights again, as if seeing them in the rearview mirror isn't proof enough that they exist.

Dally makes a grab at the wheel when you turn away from it.

"Easy, kid. Keep your eyes on the road. Just put the throttle down. We can make it to the Osage Rez before he catches us."

You shake your head. "No, we can't, Dally. You don't even know where we are."

His voice loses its calm. He snaps at you: "Just go. We can make it to the Rez."

You bear down on the accelerator, but not much happens. Granny's Ford can top fifty but not sixty-five. You check the mirror again. The lights are getting closer. The road has flattened out, and there is a long stretch of nothing between you and the cop.

"Shit," you say because that seems to sum it all up. That's what you're in deep. That's all that lays ahead of you- a world of shit like nothing even Darry could dream up. You've been in it with Darry before. Since your parents died, he's made it his mission to come down hard on you. You're younger than Soda, but you're the girl. Girl's mature more quickly, right? That must be Darry's excuse to expect the grades, and the myriad of responsibilities from you like he'd never think to ask of Soda and Pony.

And the threat he paints in the sky over your head- the girl's reformatory- ain't nothing like the boy's home. Almost every guy on your block, save for your brothers, has done a turn in the JDC. Two-Bit says Dally's going to have a wing named after him someday.

The girl's reformatory ain't even in Tulsa. They ship you down Oklahoma City to the Baptists or to Beloit up in Kansas. The Indian girls at school who've been to Chilocco and Haskell say those boarding schools ain't even close to what it's like in the girl's home at Beloit. Might as well be prison.

None the less, you take your foot off the accelerator. Next to you, you can hear Dally cursing and feel him start to squirm around. He's telling you to gun it or he'll slap you. So help him, God, he'll pop you. He doesn't, though. He knows there's nothing he can do to that can compare to what's coming.

You aren't listening to Dally anyway. Just the sound of the siren and your own voice repeating over and over your destination, your worth, the summation of your life from this day on out:

"Shit, shit, shit…"


	3. Chapter 3

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. And happy belated birthday to her!

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

_Early December 1965. Ninety days later…_

"Hey, darlin', do you gamble?"

It's freezing cold outside the Greyhound station in Oklahoma City. There's no snow on the ground, but winter is here. The air is dry and has a bite to it.

It's really too cold to do much of anything except bounce up and down on your toes in an attempt to keep your blood moving. Still, it's a strange question to be asking a kid standing on a bus station platform. You turn your head and look at the one who asked it.

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for your answer. He isn't much older than you. He looks younger in his Army uniform. It should make him look more distinguished. Maybe it's the close-cropped hair that accentuates his eyes and makes him look like a kid.

He's holding a deck of cards. He waves them at you, still waiting for a response.

"What are we playing?" You ask.

He shrugs. "Name it."

Your brothers are card players. So are their friends. Your mother thought that it wasn't something becoming of a lady, so you aren't versed in much other than cribbage. On the sly, Darry tried to get you interested in math playing crazy eights. That was a long time ago, but it's the only card game you might remember well enough to be a worthy opponent.

You tell him crazy eights. He grins at you, and you realize it's a kid's game. It's what he gets for trying to pick up a kid.

"Can we go inside?" You ask him.

"Sure," he says. "I was just out here having a smoke when I saw you. What are you doing out here?"

"Just trying not to miss my bus," you tell him. You couldn't sleep last night. You gave up at five and got out of bed, packed and repacked your bag. Now you're standing out in the cold trying to keep awake. You were afraid that if you stayed inside the station, you'd fall asleep on a bench. Now you have this guy to keep you awake.

He holds the door for you and follows you to a table with two chairs that overlooks the loading bay. You sit opposite each other. He doesn't ask your name and you don't offer. His last name- Ruby- is printed on his uniform. He doesn't tell you his first. The only other Ruby you know of is Jack, and you're confident this isn't him.

"You coming or going?" You ask him, gesturing to his uniform.

"Both. Going back. What about you?"

"Going back. To Tulsa. Where I'm from."

"What were you doing down here?"

You smile. You don't feel embarrassed to tell this guy. Really, it feels good. Maybe he'll be surprised. It'll make you seem tuff.

"I got sent to the Baptist Children's Home. I been here for 90 days. A friend of mine and I stole a car."

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't look up at you while he deals.

"Children's Home? Didn't think you were a child."

This pleases you at first, and then it makes you nervous. Is he hitting on you? He said "didn't think" in the past tense. Has he changed his mind?

You ask, "What are we playing for? You said we were gambling."

"Tulsa, huh?" He says. He sets the cards down and sits back to look at you. "You really want to go back to Tulsa?"

"I have to go back. My family's expecting me."

"But do you _want_ to go back? I mean, I'm expected where I'm going to. Don't mean I want to be there."

You furrow your brow and wait for him to clarify.

"Let's play for each other's tickets. If I win, you trade me. I get to go to Tulsa."

"And where would I be going?"

"Manhattan, Kansas. Fort Riley."

"Kansas? Yeah, no wonder you want to trade."

"It ain't Fort Riley I'm trying to avoid. It's where I go from there."

You cock you head to look at him. You still have no idea how old he is. He's done a tour already, so he's older than eighteen or nineteen, but he could be as young as twenty. He could be Darry's age, but he looks younger. You study his eyes. He looks frightened. You've never seen that look on Darry.

You're in control, you realize. He's desperate and scared. You both want what you've got. You have no interest in going to Kansas. Your ticket is safe in the pocket of your wool Pendleton shirt- the only thing close to a winter jacket you could afford on a supervised trip to the Salvation Army. You don't have to give him your ticket even if he wins. You could call for help. You could run.

You ask him. "What makes you think Tulsa is any better?"

"Darlin', it's better than Vietnam. I promise you. Ain't anyone going to shoot at me in Tulsa."

"I'll take that bet," you tell him. "My friend that I stole the car with got shot. He got out of jail early. They put him in jail because he had a record already and I got the Baptist home because I didn't. Turns out the jail was full, so they cut him loose. He went right back to raising Cain and got shot. Two of my friends have been killed since I was gone. One of them killed another kid too."

"Jesus, little girl. What kind of friends do you have?"

You think on that. It's what had you up before five this morning, unable to sleep. You're afraid to go back. Dally and Johnny are gone. It's your brothers you're going home to, but you can't imagine they're going to be the same as when you left them.

Still, his question gets your dander up a little. That old neighborhood loyalty creeps up inside you. You can't let an insinuation like that slide without a reply.

"They're alright. They're tough."

He nods. "I guess they are."

Ruby fishes a dime out of his pocket and tells you to call it. You say "heads" and he flips. He holds it out to show you it's "tails".

"Well, I'm sorry for your losses, miss, but I still got to argue that Tulsa ain't no Vietnam. Maybe Vietnam is Tulsa just on a grander scale. Over there, there's thousands of us trying to kill each other and no one knows why. You do it because you're told and because there's nowhere to go if you don't. I went AWOL once over there. I don't think they even knew I was gone. That's how squirrelly things are. No one even missed me, and I went back to camp after about three hours because I wised up and realized I couldn't survive in the jungle. I'd bet at least people in Tulsa have noticed you've been gone."

You hadn't thought of that. The last person you'd expected to hear from was Sodapop, but he was the first person to write you. To your surprise, after your two weeks of no phone or mail contact were up, the matron at the Home presented you with a pile of letters- all of them from Soda.

It turns out Soda is the letter-writer in the family. No one would ever guess it. He doesn't like to write and he isn't very good at it. All the same, he kept you filled in and he asked you questions in his letters that nudged you to write him back. Soda maintained a dialogue.

_Hey Brat _went the first one,

_I guess I can ask you now since Darry ain't gonna see this- what'd you go and do that for? Are you seeing Dally? 'Cuz if you are, that's gross. I guess it don't matter now. None of us are going to be seeing anything of each other for 90 days. It ain't that long, though. You'll be alright. Just lay low and try not to crack wise like you do. An all-girls home don't sound too bad to me. _

_Two-Bit says don't let the bed bugs bite._

_Your brother,_

_Sodapop Curtis_

You kept them tucked between the pages of the Bible that they gave you at the Home. You towed the line and went to church services like they required. You mumbled along with the hymns and nodded occasionally to the preacher's rants even though your eyes were trained on the window. You opened your bible up just enough to read Soda's letters over and over throughout the services.

You look at Ruby again. He has a good hand. He's matching up cards like he believes there's no tomorrow. You haven't even looked at your cards.

Over the intercom, a woman's voice announces the 10:15 to Tulsa is arriving. Outside, a bell rings.

"I fold," you say.

"You can't fold. It's not your turn yet."

"I fold. I want to go home."

He tosses his cards down with a sigh. He opens his mouth and shuts it again and you wait to be chastised for jerking around a man in uniform. When you stand up, he stands up with you, and it scares you. You take a step back, dragging your bag with you on the floor.

He tosses his cards down on the table, then he looks you up and down. He seems to be squinting more than scowling.

"How old are you?" He asks.

"Sixteen."

"No shit?" He says and then adds, "I guess that's alright."

"Alright for what?"

"You're old enough. Kiss me goodbye."

Your heart leaps. When you were twelve you kissed Johnny Cade in your backyard. You'd found him hiding out there, just sitting against the shed in the alley next to your house. His dad had run him off. You kissed him because you thought it would make him feel better. Then he kissed you back, and then you didn't talk to each other for two weeks.

You've kissed other guys, just fooling around, but no one has ever demanded it like this.

He shifts on his feet. Your hesitation has embarrassed him.

"Come on," he says. "I'm not going to bite. Do it for your country, will you? I'm going to be dead in two weeks most likely."

You wonder how he knows the timeframe- and how his saying it will sock you right in the gut. Dally and Johnny were dead two weeks after you got sent to Oklahoma City. You frown up at Ruby. You try to set your jaw to keep it from quivering.

"It ain't anything to cry over," he says, assuming you're getting teared up over him. "I'm starting to think it's inevitable. It ain't anything like Tulsa, though, darling. If I go back over again, I ain't coming home."

He's messing with your head. He's an asshole. He reminds you so much of Dally even though he doesn't look like him at all. You never kissed Dally- and you never wanted to- but you'd give about anything to have been there to say goodbye.

You take a step towards Ruby. He reaches out and pulls you towards him by the arm. His arm slips around your waist. You have to stand on your toes to meet his lips.

The floor beneath your feet begins to tremor as the bus pulls up to the station. Ruby holds you tighter as if you might rattle away from each other if he didn't. You wrap your arms around his neck. You draw one hand forward and let it rest on his cheek. You kiss until you hear the warning departure bell.

You back away from him, frowning. He smiles at you and gives you a little salute. He picks up your bag and hands it to you.

"Take care," you say.

"Go home, darlin'," he tells you, and you do.

* * *

><p>an- Well, damn me for doing my research. I wanted so badly for them to be in a train station, but there is no passenger service from OKC to Tulsa. Apparently, it's a point of some bitterness among Tulsans. So, they're in a bus station. I thought a train station would be romantic. Maybe a bus station gives it a more weird and awkward vibe instead. Let me know what you think.

And, yes, there will be canon characters in the next chapter. Chill.


	4. Chapter 4

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and the Curtis family.

Told ya there'd be canon characters.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Sodapop meets you at the station in Tulsa. He doesn't see you coming because he's shaking a vending machine that he probably didn't put any money into in the first place.

You set your bag down and say, "Young man, can't you read the sign? It very clearly says not to shake the machine."

"Nope, can't read. Sorry, ma'am," he replies and lets the machine go. He whips around so fast you don't have time to jump before he grabs you around the waist and sweeps you off the ground.

"You're taller," you say when he puts you down.

"You should see Ponyboy. He's gonna be bigger than Darry one of these days. It's gonna be awesome!"

Soda picks up your bag and escorts you through the station with his arm around your shoulder. You look up at him and still find yourself wondering what people think when they see the two of you together. He's a beautiful boy. People stare when he walks down the street.

Your mother- and only her- used to say you and Soda were cut from the same cloth. Soda's barely a year older. You don't look alike or even act much alike, but the two of you got her invited to about equal numbers of parent-teacher conferences and meetings with various principals. School never came easy for either you or Soda. While he was bouncing off the walls, you were staring out a window. The teachers and principals always told your mother the same thing about both of you, though: they're smart enough, Mrs. Curtis. They just need to apply themselves.

Outside, Soda steers you towards Steve Randle's car.

"I got the morning off," he tells you. He opens the rear door and throws your bag in.

You tell him, "Jeez, there went the collectable shot glasses I brought for you."

"They make collectable shot glasses at the Baptist Children's Home?"

"The license plate gig was taken."

You open the passenger door for yourself. You catch him grinning.

He says, "What- you don't want to drive?"

"Condition of my parole or probation or whatever," you remind him. He already knows. He just doesn't care. The first part of your sentence was the 90 days in the Children's Home. The second part is that you are not allowed to drive a car for the next 600 or so days until your eighteenth birthday. The judge says he sent your name to be put on a list at the DMV; you will be denied a license should you apply.

Soda bounces into the driver's seat next to you. He turns the key in the ignition. The engine purrs to life. This is Steve's car after all- it purrs.

"I got to pick Stevie up at school at three," Soda tells you. "Got the car till then. Want to just drive around?"

"Sure."

"You hungry?"

"I am."

He grins. "You got any money?"

"You cheap bastard. Yeah, I got some."

In truth, you have plenty- or what feels like plenty to you. The Social Studies instructor at the Home paid you to clean his house and occasionally watch his kids. His wife worked there as a secretary or something. It became your favorite part of every week- being alone in their house for an hour and a half on Wednesday afternoons. You'd sneak the dial on their radio over to the rock-n-roll station and then sneak it back to church music when you were through.

Before coming to the Children's Home, the Social Studies teacher and his wife had been missionaries in Africa. They had a framed map of the continent on their living room wall. You used to look at it and imagine that you were cleaning for Paul and Jane Bowles in Tangiers.

Soda turns the radio on and maneuvers the car towards The Ribbon. For the first time since seeing him in the bus station, you're afraid again. You've wanted to see Soda and Pony so bad, and you want so badly to know that Darry wants to see you, but you're not sure you're ready to see anybody else.

You feel notorious and not in a good way like you did telling Ruby where you'd been.

"Can we go downtown?" You ask Soda.

Again, he grins at you. "Can't wait to see Shepard, can you?"

You catch yourself before the automatic "Oh fuck Dally" slips out. You roll your eyes at Soda instead. You've hardly thought about Tim Shepard since you've been away. He never noticed you before. Maybe he will now that you're a criminal too. You're surprised at how dead you feel when the thought crosses your mind. The name Tim Shepard doesn't do the things to you that it once did.

"Yeah, that's it, Soda," you tell him anyway.

Soda starts to talk. He tells you everything but what you want to hear about. When he gets to Dally and Johnny, his speech becomes clipped and clinical. It's like he's reading from a Dick and Jane book: See Johnny die. See Dally run. See Dally die.

He says things are better between Pony and Darry. He tells you that things are better with the Socs. He even dated a Soc girl for a little while. Well, maybe two dates, he tells you, until her dad found out he wasn't in school.

You tell him, "You should come back with me."

You brought a transcript from the Home. You finished your work for the semester there. School was easier with nothing else to do. You get to sit out until January and start right back where you should be after winter break.

"Yeah, right," he says. The way he says it, though, tells you he's given it some thought already. The fact that it isn't a "hell no" makes you think he wants to be convinced.

"Come on, Soda. You ain't that far behind. Like a semester? Maybe a year? You could still easily catch up to Two-Bit."

He grins at that, but still shakes his head.

"Everyone knows I dropped out."

"Yeah, and everyone knows about Pony and Johnny. And everyone's going to think I've been in a Turkish prison. You'll just fit right on in with the rest of the family."

"Jeez, what happened with Darry? How'd he end up so normal?"

You giggle. "Yeah, what's wrong with him anyway? Come on, man. It's going to be hard on Pony for a while, and it's going to be shitty for me too…"

"…so you think I ought to have to join in the shittiness?"

"Soda, Pony worships the ground you walk on. If you go back and show him you're tough enough to take it..."

Soda raises an eyebrow, Two-Bit style. "Just Pony, huh? I'm doing this for Pony?"

"Just let's all do it together."

"I'll think about it," he says, which means he's already thought about it. You've as good as got him dragged up to the doors of Will Rogers.

* * *

><p>With the exception of his former teachers, everyone loves Soda. It's not just because he's good-looking. Everything's easy with Soda. Maybe that's why Sandy stepped out on him. He's so easy to get along with that she probably figured he'd just take her back. He probably would if she ever turned up.<p>

Although handsome as hell in his own right, nothing is ever easy with Darry. He didn't come to bail you out when the cops picked up you and Dally. He let you sit in jail. He came to your hearing but didn't say a word. He didn't look at you when they led you away. He didn't come to say goodbye. In the taglines of Soda's numerous letters, there was always a message from whoever was puttering around the house while he was writing: _Johnny says hi, Two-Bit says to steal him a Bible, Steve says you drive like a girl_. Nothing from Darry.

The closer you get to your house, the more nervous you become. You clam up and let Soda do all the talking, which he's happy to do. When he pulls up in front of the house and puts the car in park, though, he pauses and asks, "You want me to come in?"

You shake your head.

"I'm a big girl."

"Keep telling yourself that," Soda says, but then he adds: "He's different now. Really. It'll be alright."

You take you bag from the back and get out of the car. Soda sits and watches you go through the gate. You wave him off. He waves back, guns the engine, and disappears in a flurry of noise down the block.

You open the screen door and let it slam. You can hear Darry rattling around on the back porch.

"Soda?" He calls out. "Hey, Pepsi-Cola, that you?"

You walk back to the kitchen where he can see you.

"No, it's me," you say.

He only stands staring for a moment but it's a long one. You aren't sure what he's going to say or do. Even in December, he's tanned dark roofing houses. His arms are so built up that you can't believe he can even bend them at the elbows. His eyes are red from being out in the sun and dust, but they're still intense. In that long, long moment they take every inch of you in and then there's a snap.

He is across the room in one long step. He has a hold of you, cupping your face in both of his rough, humongous hands before you can step back and flee.

"Oh my God," he says, and then- finally- emotion. He smiles. It spreads across his face and takes over. His eyes brighten right up. Then he hugs you so tight you think your own eyes might pop out of your head.

"Baby girl," he says. "Oh, thank God…you're growing it back out."

He musses your hair and grins. You exhale.

"No, I need a haircut," you inform him. And so it begins again- the continuing battle between you and Darry over your hair.

"You don't look like that girl from 'Breathless', you know," he tells you. "You look like me when I was twelve."

"Ah, but you were damned cute when you were twelve."

He snaps his fingers at you. "You watch your mouth, little girl. It's Pony's night to do dishes, but that can easily be rearranged."

"You miss me, Darrel?"

"Did I miss my smart-mouthed, perpetually-truant car thief of a sister? Maybe you should start on the laundry. Remind me what you're good for again."

Then, again, he envelopes you in that death grip of a hug. You hug back this time, convinced now that you are not going to be driven from the house or caned.

Outside, you can hear voices. You catch yourself expecting to hear Johnny's among them. It's Ponyboy and Two-Bit. Two-Bit's teasing and Pony's arguing. There's a void, though. You hug Darry tighter and try to drown it out with the beating of his heart in his massive chest.


	5. Chapter 5

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Sylvia.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

December 1965

Where ever it is you're going today, Darry implores you to take Ponyboy along. He asks if that's the only coat you have, and is out the door- followed by Sodapop- before you can answer.

"So where are we going?" Pony asks you.

"I'm going to get my hair cut. I know you want to join in on that fun."

He shrugs. "_Is_ that the only coat you have?"

He grins from behind the theme book he's writing in.

"Why, yes, I'm afraid it is."

It's the same Pendleton shirt you wore home from Oklahoma City. It's a man's shirt. Coupled with your short hair, Darry is afraid it _means something_. You have been locked up with a bunch of girls for 90 days, after all. Things could have happened. Darry has only insinuated his concerns regarding all this. Your lack of a reply is driving him crazy.

"Where are you getting your hair cut?" Pony asks.

"It's close to downtown. Like on 18th or something? I just know how to get there. We'd have to take the bus."

"Is it close to the library? I need something to read."

"Closer than you are sitting around here."

He hops up on to his feet. "That works."

He's been taller than you for a while. Soda's right, though, he's catching up to Darry. His voice catches; he sounds like he has a permanent case of laryngitis. His eyes are more knowing now and less apt to avoid yours when you speak to him. There's peach fuzz on his chin.

"Maybe we should take you to a barber, get you a shave," you tell him.

He rubs his chin and frowns at you, embarrassed.

"No?"

Now he's feeling ornery. He throws the scrutiny back on you.

"Why'd you have to go downtown to get your hair cut anyway? Mom used to go to that place…what's that woman's name? Betty Mae?"

"Betty Jo."

"Betty Jo. She's right around the block."

"Yeah, and she's 200 years old. You think she's going to go along with cutting my hair like this? She'd probably make me call Darry and get his permission first. I just want someone closer to my own age to do it."

The person you want to do it is Sylvia. You don't really know how old she is, but she's closer to your age than Betty Jo down the block. You've been curious to see Sylvia ever since your return to Tulsa. You wonder how she is since Dally's death. You aren't her friend, and it isn't quite concern that you feel for her. It's curiosity, just like before. You don't know how you feel about Dally's death yourself. You want to see how a pro is handling it.

"Get your shoes on," you say to Pony. "There's a bus in six minutes."

He pulls his shoes out from under the couch and sits again to tie them.

"How come you want to cut your hair like that anyway?" He asks. "Is it just to piss off Darry?"

"Does it occur to anyone that I might actually like my hair like this? It has nothing to do with Darry."

"What if no one else likes it?"

You put your hands on your hips and frown at him.

"You mean boys, right? Do I care if boys like it? Pony, I like boys. You can tell Darry I said that. In fact, let's stop at the Today Building and have some flyers printed up. Boys are all kinds of wonderful. They're ever so much more wonderful than girls."

He grins at you.

"How come you don't have a boyfriend then? How come you're so hot and heavy to get downtown to see Sylvia?"

That gives you pause. You put your hand out. He takes it and you pull him up off the couch.

You have never thought of your obsession with Sylvia as being some kind of crush. You had just thought it was, well, some kind of obsession. She was your mentor, your role model. She was like a tougher, updated mother-figure. You'd thought about who she'd kissed and how she made it happen, but you'd never thought about kissing her.

"Because I like the way she cuts hair, dork," you say. "Four minutes to bus."

He follows you out the door, zipping his jacket against the wind.

He calls after you, "but why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Why don't you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?"

He shoves you through the gate. You laugh at him and close it behind you. You can hear the bus. You give him a push in the direction of the stop, and you both break into a run.

You make the bus and sit down in the back. You corner him against the window in the back seat.

"What? Girls don't dig me, that's all."

You laugh. "That's bullshit. They're going to dig you when we go back. Now that you don't look like a middle school kid."

"When we go back, they'll have Soda to fall all over again. And thank you very much for that, by the way."

He's happy, though. You can see it. His lips are pressed together tight in an effort to keep them from breaking into an all-out grin. He looks out the window. You look down the aisle.

"Maybe boys just don't dig me," you say. You think about Ruby in the bus station. Would he have asked you if there had been another girl to choose from?

"Boys dig you. I know."

"You know, do you? How did you come to possess this information?"

He looks back to you, grinning. "Because I hear things. I know. I know guys who dig you."

"Guys, huh? Plural? Yeah, and who might these guys be?"

"Can't tell you. Alright, I know one guy who digs you, but I can't tell."

The first person to come to mind is Curly Shepard, who has long misinterpreted you dopey glances at his brother as being for him. Curly is also the only guy near your own age, besides Johnny, you've seen Ponyboy hang out with.

"Can you please just tell me it ain't Curly so I can sleep at night?"

"Curly's in the reformatory."

"That's not an answer."

The bus slows down with a squeal and stops in front of the library.

Pony stands up and slips past you. You hit him in the arm as he goes by.

"It ain't Curly. Cripes. You getting off here?"

"One more stop. Meet me at Benny's at eleven and I'll get you lunch."

He waves without looking back. He gets off the bus and you watch him start up the stairs towards the library. He doesn't have Soda's bounce. He's developing more of a lumber, like Darry. He and Soda will never compete for girls, you realize- they're too different. They'll each attract a completely different kind of girl. You hope anyway, for Pony's sake, that he attracts a different kind of girl than Sodapop.

You get off the bus at the next stop and walk down the next side street towards Diane's Cut Above. The smell of chemicals lingers outside on the street. A little bell rings when you open the door. Inside everything is painted turquoise, white, and black. It's like walking into a cartoon. None of the staff seem quite real. In your memory, Sylvia Ryan is the most surreal of them all.

"Hi." You lean across the counter to address the woman sitting behind it filing her nails. "Is Sylvia available?"

She shakes her head. "She ain't here. She left."

"Can I make an appointment then?"

"You can, but not with her. Sylvia's gone."

You nod, but don't say anything. Your mind spins as you try to imagine where Sylvia could have gone. You don't even know for sure where she came from.

"Theresa's open, if you want," the girl behind the counter tells you. At the mention of her name, Theresa comes over. She's taller than you, but she's wearing stacked heels. Her hair is dyed black. She's wearing bright red lipstick.

"Sylvia used to cut you, huh?" She says between smacks on her gum. "Girl, you have some balls. I love your hair. I'll do it, if you want."

You nod an affirmative. You should be pleased. At least it's another vote in favor of your hair. Instead, you mind is on Sylvia. This isn't the way you wanted her to handle Dally's death. What you really wanted was to see her over it. You wanted to know how to move on to new boys and how to proceed with mysterious ones who- according to your little brother- were interested in you.

You liked it when Sylvia told you that your hair suited you. Theresa's approval just doesn't pack the same punch.

* * *

><p>Ponyboy is sitting in a booth at Benny's reading his newly-acquired copy of <span>Rabbit, Run<span>. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up at you when you sit down opposite him.

"Simply fabulous," he says in a flat voice.

"What happened to Sylvia?"

"Dally and her split when he got out of the cooler. She was cheating on him."

"Yeah, but then what happened?"

"How should I know?" He puts his book down in irritation, holding his place with his thumb. He's already a couple of chapters in. "Unlike you, I was always happier when she wasn't around. If she was gone, I didn't ask questions. I did a little dance. Lit some candles…"

"Were they ever even really going out?"

"Why? Did you think _you_ were going out with him?"

"No." You take a menu from behind the napkin dispenser. You consider smacking your little brother with it, but then decide against it. It would appear that he'd gotten too much of a rise out of you. "We were just goofing off that day. I assumed it was because he couldn't find you or Johnny to goof off with. I just…I don't know…her and Dal broke up and got back together all the time, to hear him tell it. She's older, right? Maybe she just had a more mature attitude towards it…"

"Meaning she felt that she could screw around on him?"

"Meaning she considered him to be…I don't know, like a companion but not a serious boyfriend." There isn't a word in your vocabulary for what you're talking about, and there won't be until maybe 1968 or 69. "It's not like they were getting married or anything. I just always got the impression that he got way more bent out of shape over her than she did him."

"Well, wouldn't you be glad to be rid of Dally?" He says it and then blinks like he wishes he could take it back. "I shouldn't have said that."

You shrug.

"It don't matter, Pony. Just 'cause he's dead, he didn't magically become a different kind of person. No one's nominating him for sainthood, from what I hear."

Pony's done talking about it.

He picks up his own menu and says, "Can we eat?"

"Yeah. But nobody heard anything? No one knows where she went?"

He shakes his head. "I don't. Don't mean nobody heard anything. You should ask Two-Bit. He goes to Buck's, she used to go to Buck's. Hey- I didn't tell you- Soda and Steve went to Buck's. Right around Thanksgiving, and Darry found out…"

He starts talking. He can barely stop and change directions when Benny comes to take your order. You order a burger and a Coke and half-listen to Ponyboy relay his tale. The only part that remotely interests you is when he says that Darry let Soda slide because he was with Steve. It seems the rules about Buck's have relaxed somewhat. Not for Ponyboy- he's still not allowed within miles of the joint, but Soda can go in for the occasional game of pool now just as long as he doesn't drink and he's not alone.


	6. Chapter 6

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble**

January 1966

"…but Soda goes to Buck's."

"No. Just…no, and who told you that?"

"You think I wouldn't find out?" You're leaning over the back of the chair where Darry is sitting trying in vain to read the paper. You used to lean over this same chair and talk your father into damned-near everything. The charms you once had as the only daughter are useless on Darry.

He mumbles something about Ponyboy.

"I'll take her," Two-Bit rolls on to his side to peer at the two of you. He's been laying on the floor in front of the TV watching the news and praying- along with the rest of you, save for Darry- for a school closing.

Spring semester begins tomorrow, but winter has finally decided to kick in to gear. Outside, everything is coated with a thin gloss of ice. Cars are skidding out of control on the street. There have been accidents downtown.

It was Steve who got everyone's hopes up. He charged in to your house shortly after dinner cussing up a storm about how he'd nearly just wrapped himself around a pole and those sons of bitches had better not think he's taking his baby out on the road and driving to school tomorrow.

No one asks. You all know it's his car and not Evie or his youngest sister, Shelly, he's referring to.

Two-Bit came over not long after. His mom sold their TV, and he needed a place to watch for school closings. He, Steve, Soda, and Ponyboy have been glued to the television ever since. You, Darry was happy to remind you, had dishes.

You give Two-Bit a "shut up" sneer. Darry ignores him.

He says, "Come on, Darrel. I won't let nothing happen to her. It'll be like the time I took my little sister to the zoo."

"You never took your little sister to no zoo," Steve grumbles. "That was me. I took _my_ sister to the zoo."

"I'm just saying that I would look upon her as I do my little sister," Two-Bit says. "And that going to Buck's is sort of like going to the zoo."

"Aside from the smell, how do you figure?" Darry asks.

Two-Bit grins. "I'd have thought the 'wildlife' comparison would be obvious."

"Then take her to the _zoo_, Two-Bit. You have my permission to take your surrogate sister here to the zoo. You-" He folds his paper and taps you on the head with it. "You stay the hell out of Buck's."

You step over the obstacle course of bodies in front of the television set. You stop to block Soda's view long enough that he hits you with a pillow, and then you move on.

Back in the kitchen, the dishes are finished. You have to dry them and put them away, but you decide to give yourself a minute to think. You pick up a stray bread bag and throw it in the trash. You find a couple of empty beer bottles and rinse them out. You find one half-empty and hoist yourself up on the counter to drink it.

When you hear the floor creak and see Two-Bit coming, you swallow hard and set the bottle behind you on the counter.

"You seen my beer?" He asks you.

You shake your head. A grin spreads across his face.

"Of course you can't see it. It's behind you."

He reaches around you to snatch it. He shakes the bottle a little and then cocks that eyebrow at you.

"You drinkin' my beer?"

"It was the beer fairies."

"You've seen the beer fairies? You sure you haven't been to Buck's already?"

"Don't you remember, Two-Bit? You told me about the beer fairies when I was just a wee girl of ten."

He nods. "Was I drunk?"

"Considering you were thirteen, I'd guess not."

"What do you want to go to Buck's for anyway?" He leans back against the counter next to you and finishes off his beer.

You shrug. "Right of passage. Mourning ritual. I want to see where Dally spent his last days."

"Really?"

"No. What happened to Sylvia?"

Two-Bit shakes his head. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he answers you:

"Couldn't tell you. I ain't seen her there, if that's what you mean. Ain't seen her since before Dal…I'd have put money on her making a play for Shepard, but I guess I'm glad I didn't place that bet."

A thought occurs to you. "She didn't go to Dally's funeral?"

"Wasn't any funeral," Two-Bit snorts. His voice becomes bitter. "You think his dad's the kind to put together a funeral?"

You never knew Dally's father. You've only heard about him. It surprises you that Two-Bit seems to know him.

He taps your leg with his empty bottle.

"Tell you what- I'll take you to Buck's one of these nights. Good and early. We'll shoot a game of pool. I'll buy you a Shirley Temple…" He pauses to wait for your eyes to roll- which they do- and then he continues. "I'll have you home before Junior even knows you're gone. You just got to promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Promise me you'll get it out of your system, kid. I'll take you once, but that's it. Buck's a weasel and the guys in there- myself excluded, of course- are bad news. Ain't any kind of place for a girl like yourself."

You take his bottle from him and turn away to rinse it out in the sink.

"And just what kind of girl am I, Two-Bit, and how would you even know?"

"Guess I don't these days. It ain't a place for the kind of girl you should be, though."

Before you can ask him what the hell that means, Steve shouts from his post by the television.

"Son of a bitch! I can't believe it!"

"Are we off?" Two-Bit calls to him.

"No! Fucking Catoosa, Broken Arrow, the entire Osage Tribe...everything's down but us."

Darry lets out a whoop.

"To bed, to bed, my little ones," he says. "The rest of y'all skate on home now. You'll be seeing each other again bright and early tomorrow."

* * *

><p>You wake up early. You'd like to tell yourself that it's in hope of getting the first hot shower, but it's really nerves that have had you awake on and off since dawn.<p>

When your parents were alive, _not_ going to school and _not_ finishing were never options. Even after they were gone, it never entered your mind. Soda blindsided everyone when he dropped out. For someone who claims to have never had an original thought, he sure comes up with some good ones.

Now he's got you thinking about it. You've already been gone a semester. No one at school is going to notice if you just never go back. Let them say you got pregnant or ran away. Let them add it to the list: the girl with the dead parents, the girl who got sent away, the girl who knew Dallas Winston and Johnny Cade.

You think about the boy who Ponyboy says likes you. What kind of boy would that be? You're still convinced it's Curly Shepard. He's the only one dumb enough to want to take you on.

You open your bedroom door and shuffle into hall wrapped in your quilt. Your room was once part of a back porch. Your father closed it in so his baby girl could have her own bedroom, but it was never insulated properly. There is still space between the floor and the ground that you can crawl under from the outside. You room is always cold no matter how many blankets you hijack from around the house.

The smell of toasted bread surprises you. You peek around the corner into the kitchen. Soda is standing against the counter watching his bread toast over a burner on the stove. A step closer and you can see that he isn't really watching it. He's staring into space past his bread.

"Hey," you say to him.

His eyes focus and he smiles at you. It's a weak smile. He's not happy.

"I don't want to do this," he says.

"Me neither. Maybe we should go tell Darry we're dropping out together."

He shakes his head. "You can't drop out. You're smart than me."

"Please. I failed checkbook-balancing in Home Ec. Shit…I got to take Home Ec. Again. I can't sew first thing in the morning."

Soda grins at you.

"Geometry," he says. "At Eight-fifteen in the morning. Even people who use geometry don't use it at eight in the morning, I bet. Tell me again why we're doing this?"

You lean against the doorway.

"Ponyboy. We're going to school as the United Curtis Front so that Ponyboy doesn't have to do it alone."

"Can I drop out again once he gets his feet on the ground?" Soda says.

"You bread's burning."

He jumps to save his toast. He plucks it off the wire holder with his thumb and index finger, blowing at it as he tosses it towards a plate on the counter.

"Make me one. Not as done, though."

You turn and shuffle towards the bathroom. The water from the shower is hot enough to fog up everything in the cold little room. When you're finished, you step through the steam and wipe a circle in the mirror over the sink with your first.

Surely you look like a girl, not just Darry when he was twelve. Your lips are fuller. Your chin is more delicate, and- thanks to Sylvia's schooling- your eyebrows are shaped. You wonder if Sylvia went to school and if she hated it as much as you do.

You open up the little make-up bag you bought with your babysitting money in Oklahoma City and take out the eyeliner and mascara you had to hide in the Baptist Home. Nice girls don't wear make-up, they'd told you. You'd wondered to yourself who the hell they thought you were anyway; you were, after all, sentenced to live in their home.

You sneak a little of Soda's pomade and come your hair smooth on the sides. You look back at yourself in the mirror again. This time, you look like a girl. Maybe not a nice girl, but you mother was a nice girl and so was Sandy, and where did it get them?


	7. Chapter 7

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

January 1966

You and Evie weren't the closest of friends before you left and you don't feel any great need to be her friend now. The sewing table next to hers is the only spot open in Home Ec when you slip in just under the bell. Previously, that table was occupied by Sandy.

You place your books above the table tentatively and Evie whispers, "Christ, sit down here before some society belle does, will you?"

You still rank higher on Evie's list than the Socs, it seems.

You set your books down, pull the chair out, and sit. You catch the words "reform school" among the whispered conversations in play around you. You sit up a little straighter, toss your head back, and meditate on Two-Bit's words from earlier this morning:

He'd told you as you entered the building with him and your brothers that it was the kind of thing you _wanted_ to advertise. The girls would talk, but none of them would give you any real shit. The boys- well, the ones you wanted to be intimidated would be. The others would be melting in a puddle of their own drool over the thought of being brave enough to speak to you.

"Which group do you belong to?" You'd asked him.

He'd cocked that eyebrow and scratched the beginnings of a beard on his chin.

"Ain't decided yet. I don't think I've ever met a live reform school girl yet. Just seen 'em in dirty movies, you know. I'm withholding judgment."

"You know I was in a Baptist home and not a reform school, right, Two-Bit?"

Two-Bit winked at you. "Then I'm definitely frightened. Quakin' in my boots."

You lay a notebook in your lap and pretend to look at something in it. Being that it's the first day of the semester, every page is still blank.

Evie scoots a little bit closer.

"So, what was it like?" She asks. Her voice isn't overly loud. She's almost inconspicuous, like she might actually want to know and she's not just trying to make a scene. You shrug anyway.

"It was no big deal. Went to church a lot. We had to go to church all the time."

"Did they lock you up?"

"Nope. Dally was in jail, not me."

She wrinkles her nose at the mention of Dally's name.

"I was just wondering," she says. "You hear stories."

"I don't have no stories," you tell her. "Went to church, did my homework. Wasn't any big deal."

"I'd have been scared. What were the other girls like?"

"Like other girls. Just like us. Everybody was just towing the line until they got to go home." That's not the whole truth, and you frown when you say it. Some of the girls weren't there on a court order. Some of them had no place else to go. What they were towing the line for, you have no idea.

"And there weren't any boys?" Evie asks, as though this is the most unimaginable thing of all.

You smile and shake your head. You heard from one of the girls there that once there had been mixers- dances with the residents of the Baptist Boys Ranch just outside of town. Those had ended when one of the girls got pregnant.

"No boys in the girl's home, nope."

Before she can make up her mind whether to enjoy your joke or click her tongue in frustration, Evie becomes distracted.

She whispers, "Oh, Christ," under her breath.

You say, "Nope, not even him," but Evie isn't paying attention.

She has been diverted by another girl looking for a chair. You can only guess this is the society belle Evie was hoping to avoid earlier. She has neat strawberry blonde hair. She looks so clean she appears to sparkle. Under any other circumstance, you'd avoid such a girl, but this one looks friendly. You're aching for a friendly face, so you inch your chair towards Evie to give the new girl room to lean against the sewing table.

"Thanks," she leans in and whispers to you.

You nod. Evie makes a noise in her nasal cavity.

"I'm Marla," the girl whispers to you.

Again, you nod. Of course, she's Marla- Marla the Soc Girl whose daddy didn't want her dating Soda when he was a drop-out. She's wearing perfume. You can smell it when she scoots in next to you. You look down at the floor. Her shoes are new.

"Evie," Marla whispers. "Are you going to make your prom dress this term?"

Evie sits up a little straighter. She has interpreted Marla's question as a barb- a reminder that Marla can probably afford to buy a prom dress and Evie can't. You get the feeling, though, from the way Marla is wide-eyed and waiting on Evie's reply, that there was no harm intended.

"I might," Evie says finally. "Don't know if I'm going to prom yet."

Marla nods. "I guess I don't know yet either. I'll have to work on that."

"I'd hardly call that work," Evie says. "Shouldn't be too difficult to find someone who wants to dance with you."

"Yeah, but…" Marla gets cut off by Mrs. Trout.

Mrs. Trout reads the role, and then announces the obvious: there are more students than desks in the classroom. She has spoken with the counselor, she says, and would like to invite any interested students to speak to her at the end of class about transferring to another class period or taking an internship in the library instead.

You must have squirmed or sat up a little straighter without realizing it.

Evie hisses at you: "Don't even think about."

"What am I going to do in here, anyway?" You ask her. "Marla's right. Y'all make prom dresses in here. I'm only a sophomore. I ain't going to prom."

"What do you want to work in the library for?" Marla asks.

You shrug. She says it like she knows you. You guess, since she's spent enough time with Soda, maybe she does a little.

"I don't know…"

Evie tells her, "She can't sew for shit."

You grin at Marla and shrug. "I can't sew for shit, but I know how to put a book on a shelf."

Marla nods, thinking. Then she says, "I wonder if they need two interns."

For the first time all hour, Evie looks alive and hopeful. You shrug again.

When the period draws to a close, you and Marla go up to Mrs. Trout together and ask. It had occurred to you that Marla might throw you out of the running for the internship. One look from Mrs. Trout, though, and it's clear that it's you she would love to be rid of. She makes a weak attempt to convince Marla to stay- while feverishly signing the paperwork for your transfer- but Marla insists. English is her weakest subject, she tells Mrs. Trout. She could use the extra exposure to books. The way she says it makes it sound like Marla thinks she's going to absorb new grammar and punctuation skills through her skin by touching the dust on the library shelves. Mrs. Trout looks skeptical, but she relents.

Paperwork in hand, you wave to Evie who looks back and forth between you and Marla and says, "Luck of the Irish to you."

You salute her and head out into the hall, followed by Marla.

For the first time, you hear her speak above a whisper.

"God, am I glad to be out of there. I sewed through my finger last term," she says and holds up her hand to let you see the damage. You don't see any. Perhaps it's an internal scar. "Besides, Evie's right. I mean, I know what she was getting at, but she's right. I won't need to sew my prom dress. I wanted to get to know you anyway."

"Did you?"

Marla smiles. She's pretty. She's like a ball of light, but not like Sylvia at all. Sylvia is like an explosion; Marla is like Glenda the Good Witch coming down in her bubble.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you're Soda's sister. He used to talk about you. I know you're nothing like everyone says…"

She stops and you raise your eyebrows at her.

"I mean, not 'everyone'. Just some people. I know you're not like that. Soda says you're sweet."

You feel your jaw begin to clinch. Your throat tightens. You don't know if you're going to be sick or start to cry. You don't want to be here, not in this place where people talk about you and your brothers are forced to defend your honor. The library gig was your best bet for getting to hide for at least one hour of the day. Now, you're stuck hiding with Marla, who has heard all the things "they've" said about you.

"What do 'they' say?" You ask her in a flat voice. You've stopped walking. You lean back against a locker and clutch your books to your chest. Marla has to wheel around and come back a couple of steps to you. She'd kept walking without noticing you were gone.

She realizes she's made a mistake- you can see that in her eyes. Her shoulders sag.

"Nothing. It's nothing. I believe what Soda says, and he says you're funny and you're cool. He says you were the one who really held it together when your parents…wow, I'm just really digging myself in here."

"You've spent a lot of time with Soda," you say.

Marla blushes a little. "I guess so. Used to spend time with him. That's why…well, part of the reason why…I need you to help me. Now that he's back in school, my dad might let us go out again. I don't know if he still wants to, and his friends don't seem too keen on letting me back in the circle. I don't think I ever was in the circle, but…no, Evie hates me."

You smirk. Marla is more intuitive than you'd given her credit for.

She nudges you away from the lockers and the two of you continue down the hall.

"I wanted to get to know you because I figure maybe I had a fresh chance with you and maybe you'd help me see Sodapop. Maybe you could give him this?"

She hands you a folded note. Again, she blushes.

"I'm so dumb. I had it written last night. I was hoping I'd see him…or you. Will you give it to him?"

The two of you are almost to the library now. You open the door and Marla steps inside. She's used to having doors opened for her, but she does say 'thank you'. You tuck her note inside your math book and tell her you'll give it to Soda at lunch. Then she and you step up to the library counter to summon the librarian and find out just what this internship entails.


	8. Chapter 8

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, still.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

January 1966-

Someone pulls the fire alarm during fourth hour. You know the drill- you've done it a million times before- in the past very often at the hands of Dally. You imagine him perhaps pulling that lever from the next world and it makes you smile.

You stop smiling when you get outside. It's freezing and the teachers wouldn't let you stop at your locker for your coat. You meet up with Two-Bit- the first familiar face you see- at the edge of the parking lot. He's standing with his back to the school building with a couple of guys from the Shepard gang. They're passing a cigarette between them. Their frozen breath hangs in the air and from a distance it masks the cigarette smoke.

Two-Bit takes a step to the side and lets you in to the circle. He puts an arm around you and rubs your shoulder. You hop up and down on your toes to keep warm.

He passes you the cigarette and says, "Having a productive morning, Miss Curtis?"

"I got myself liberated from Home Ec. How about you?"

"I liberated some pencils from the bookstore. Kind of wish I hadn't. Now I'm King of Pencils, and I got no excuse to be doing nothing in class."

He pulls a couple of pencils from the inside pocket of his jacket and offers them to the Shepard gang members.

"Need a pencil? Jimmy? Baker?"

Jimmy and Baker shake their heads. The third one, whose name neither you nor Two-Bit can remember, reaches for the cigarette. You hand it to him.

He takes a drag and you can feel him eyeing you through the smoke. You aren't used to anyone eyeing you and you want to duck your eyes away. Instead, you hold his gaze and scowl. After a couple of beats, he blinks and grins at you.

"When'd you get back, little girl?" He asks. You still can't remember his name. It surprises you that he noticed you were gone.

"Right before Christmas."

"Well, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. You all good and reformed now?"

You shrug. "Something like that."

"Ain't that a shame," he mumbles and winks. It's hard to know if he's winking at you or his buddies. They don't respond. They're too cold to care.

He twitches when Two-Bit tosses a pencil and it bounces off his chest.

"She's a pillar of the community now," Two-Bit tells him. "Too good for the likes of you."

The Shepard gang member smirks. "Yeah, that's what all you North Saint Louis fuckers think now, ain't it? Made good with the Socs, mutual loss and all that shit. Gave up rumbles for sucking Soc cock."

"I seem to remember being at a rumble with you not so long ago." Two-Bit's tone has changed. Like the Shepard member, it's taken on a menacing edge. "I sure remember cleaning clock on the Socs. Maybe we should've given you a whipping, too, Aronson. Seems you need reminding that we're still here. And don't be talking about sucking cock around her."

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. This isn't lost on Aronson.

"What's so funny, little girl?" He asks you. "Is sucking cock for your gang really that amusing?"

Two-Bit lurches forward. Jimmy and Baker step in between him and Aronson. Aronson laughs. He flicks the spent cigarette butt between their shoulders at Two-Bit.

You reach out and tug on his shoulder.

"It's alright, Two-Bit," you say. "I've heard that word before. Never in connection with the Shepard gang, mind you."

Aronson's eyes widen. Jimmy and Baker just look confused. If you were a guy, one of them would hit you. Since you're not, they have no recourse. You shrug at them.

Behind you the bell rings. The school has been deemed safe, and the administration is calling you back.

"Y'all had better hurry and get back in there," Two-Bit says to the Shepard gang members. "Looks like y'all have some work to do if you want to catch up to her."

Still dazed, Aronson, Baker, and Jimmy walk between you and Two-Bit and back towards the school. Baker knocks shoulders with Two-Bit, but doesn't say anything. Aronson pinches your waist as he walks by. He looks back at you, smiling. You offer him one of Two-Bit's pencils. He doesn't take it, just follows his friends towards the school, shaking his head.

"No. Just no," Two-Bit says. He's standing at your shoulder again. "There will be no smiling, no winking, no eyelash-batting, and no flirting with the likes of him. Or with the likes of any of them."

"I wasn't flirting," you insist. Now that he's said it, though, you aren't so sure.

Two-Bit clicks his tongue. He shakes his head at you and says, "Little girl, I know flirting. I know what it looks like, and that was definitely flirtatious."

"Flirt with the Shepard crew a lot, do you?"

"Well, they're just so darned irresistible. What with the dime bags in their socks, and the concealed weapons, and the tattoos they made all by themselves. You hungry? Let's go get some lunch."

He switches gears so fast it takes you a beat to catch up.

"It ain't lunch time yet."

Two-Bit shrugs. He fishes in his jacket for another cigarette. He comes up with a pencil instead. He shrugs and tosses it over his shoulder. He looks up at the sky and cocks his eyebrow, as though assessing the time by the position of the sun.

"Close enough. 'Sides, I'm never going to be able to sit still through Lit now after that little episode."

"Like you ever sat still before it."

"Don't you be turning that smart little mouth against me, missy," he says. "Come on. We'll pick up some burgers and then I'll take you for your game of pool at Buck's."

"Two-Bit, it's eleven-thirty in the morning."

"Perfect time for Buck's. No one will be up yet. We won't have to pay for a pool table."

You look back at the school building one more time. You already know you're leaving, but it feels somehow wrong to you that the boys from the Shepard gang went back to class instead of you and Two-Bit.

"Do they really feel like that about us now?" You ask Two-Bit.

He's already on the move, bouncing towards the parking lot on the balls of his feet and whistling.

"Does who feel like what? Shepard and Associates? Who knows? Aronson runs his mouth. He has a gift for it. I ain't heard any such animosity outta Tim."

"Well, Tim has more of a gift for keeping his thoughts to himself, I always thought."

You've reached Two-Bit's Plymouth. He grins over the roof at you and jerks the driver's side door open.

"Don't you be thinking about Shepard and his gifts now, little girl. In fact, let's just end this conversation if we're going to eat."

"Whatever." You roll your eyes and tug the passenger door open. You toss an abandoned copy of Huckleberry Finn into the back seat and bounce in next to Two-Bit.

"Hey, take care with that," he nods in the direction the book went. "That's got to last me at least a couple more tours in American Lit."

"I think we have it at the same time," you tell him. "I can get you through."

"That's alright. I ain't that interested in getting through. Me and Miss Davis…we got a thing."

You smirk. Miss Davis is in her second, maybe third year of teaching. A lot of the boys you know imagine themselves to have "a thing" with her.

"Oh, you do, huh?"

Two-Bit pumps the accelerator a few times, tries the ignition, and pumps on the gas again. On the third try, it turns over.

"Yeah," he says, turning to look out the rear window as he backs into the parking lot. "We talk about American Literature. What'd you think?"

"You have a pretty broad knowledge of American Literature, do you?"

"I read Huck Finn three times. You know they say that every time you read it, you read it at a different age level."

"I think they mean you can read it at different age levels and get something different out of it every time."

He reaches past you to dig for cigarettes in the glove compartment. You take hold of the wheel while he does. The car coasts past the stop sign at the entrance to the school and on to the street. Two-Bit grumbles to himself triumphantly. He's found a cigarette. He sits up again, turns the radio on, and pops the lighter in. It pops right back out again. Two-Bit frowns.

"Got a light? Yeah, so I read it three times in the past two years. I'm on an accelerated track. It's like Advanced Placement. College prep. You read it before?"

You nod. You don't have a light, but you saw a book of matches in the glove compartment. You open it again and begin to dig. There's a flask in there, an owner's manual to a different kind of car- maybe Steve's, some bits and pieces that probably should be inside the engine of Two-Bit's car, and a box of condoms. You've never so much a touched a box of condoms before. Now you're not going to be able to push the thought of Two-Bit using one out of your mind. You find the matches and shut the glove compartment.

"Thank you, lady," he says, allowing you to light his cigarette.

"You're welcome, sir. So, really, are we on the outs with the Shepards now?"

"As much as anyone's ever on the 'ins' with them." Two-Bit shrugs. "I guess Dally was always kind of a bridge between us and them before. I never really gave them much thought. We had their backs and they had ours, but we never had much to say to each other when there wasn't an outside threat going on. That's the difference between us and them, I guess. We're fine and dandy with there being no outside threat. Shepard's don't know what to do with themselves if they ain't got anyone to fight with. They'll create a threat just to have something to do."

"So y'all are a threat now?"

"I doubt it. Like I said, Aronson likes to run his mouth. Probably just testing the waters. As much as I don't see us singing songs and holding hands with Tim, I guess I got to say I trust him."

"What about me?"

"Yeah, I trust you too."

"No, dumbass. Can I trust him?"

"What do you need to trust Tim for?"

"Well, you said Aronson was testing the waters. You also said he was flirting with me. Maybe he's testing the waters by flirting with me."

Two-Bit grins. "Stay out of the water, then. They ain't going to put that much effort into it. Stay clear of the Shepard clan and most likely they'll leave you alone."

"Sounds kind of funny coming from the guy who's taking me to Buck's."

He considers this, and-for a minute- you think he might turn the car around and head back to school. He doesn't. You're on Buck's street now. You can see the dust rising from the stockyard and smell the cattle. There are a couple cars parked out front. They're covered in frost. It's melting off of their hoods in the bleak sunlight- a sign that the drivers have been inside all night. Two-Bit makes a noise in this throat.

"Well, maybe we'll just take the bull by the horns and ask the source himself." He points to one of the cars. "Tim's here."

"Yay," you mutter.

"Yeah, he's a real pussycat in the morning. We should probably shoot some pool first. Maybe get our lunch and come back."

"Maybe we should just go back to school."

Two-Bit pulls up next to Tim's car, backs about two-thirds of the way past it, and swings it up to the curb behind with a precision that boggles your mind. When it comes time for you to learn to parallel park, you are definitely calling on Two-Bit.

"What do we need school for?" He asks you as he kills the engine. "We brought the book along. We can always refer to it if need be when we're helping walk Tim through his moral dilemma. Or we can hit him over the head with it if he finds he's unable to choose morality over the rules that govern the society he's set up for himself in there."

"I'll be damned. You have read it," you say.

"'Course I have. What do you think I do while Stevie and your brother are fartin' around with my car out back of your house? Help them? I think not."

Two-Bit chucks the cigarette butt into the gutter. He jumps and slides across the hood of the Plymouth and lands next to you. Grinning, he offers you his arm. You accept and hook your elbow in his, knowing that if you didn't he'd probably throw you over his shoulder and haul you inside.


	9. Chapter 9

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Buck Merrill's place.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Like everything else he does, Buck Merrill's "roadhouse" is a greater thing in his imagination than it is in real life. Back in a world whose decision-making isn't addled by rodeo-induced brain injuries, Buck's road house is only such in that it's a house on a road. It's not a real bar. It doesn't have a bar in it. There's a beer fridge and sometimes a keg. There are rooms upstairs, but there may or may not be furniture in them. You wouldn't know about that.

Two-Bit, to hear him tell it, knows plenty about that. He bursts through the front door like he owns the place. He takes a few steps into the front room and then stops then comes back to hold the door open for you- like he's inaugurating you into something really special. You're entering his club house, and Tim Shepard's.

It isn't much warmer in the front room than it is outside. At first, you suspect that this is because they don't need the heat at night as the swarm of bodies keeps it warm enough. When your eyes adjust and you see the outline of a figure sprawled on a yellowish sofa, your heart leaps. Maybe the furnace went out and they all died. The couch cushions are not on the couch; they're scattered around the room on the floor. Two-Bit picks one up. He throws it at the body.

"Rise and shine, Timmy. The day ain't getting any younger."

Tim Shepard flinches. He makes to throw the pillow, but then scowls and sets it down on the floor when he sees Two-Bit. He stretches and sits up, shaking his head.

"Ain't you supposed to be in school?" He asks.

"Don't talk all responsible like that, Shepard. You know it scares me," Two-Bit shouts back to him. He's already in the kitchen, leaving you standing in the center of the room, alone and exposed. Tim isn't awake enough yet to notice.

"Do pardon me, Mathews. I'm a little foggy yet," he says. "School's still in, right?"

"You are correct, sir." Two-Bit returns. He's dangling three open beer bottles between the fingers of his right hand. He hands one to you and another to Tim. Now Tim notices you. He leans back against the couch and takes a drink while his dark eyes walk you up and down.

It's harder to hold Tim's gaze than it was with Aronson. Looking across the room at him, a little of that old infatuated feeling wells up inside you. Your heart flutters a little. Your skin grows hot and you don't know why. Before, you could only guess that it was because Tim was inaccessible. Now you think it must be because- more than any of the other guys you know except Darry- Tim looks like an adult. He looks grown-up. He has a grown-up's body and he's put it through the ringer. He gives the impression of someone who's been mangled and needs putting back together. Trying to imagine what Tim Shepard has been up to in the last 24 hours- and with whom- makes it difficult for you to look him in the eye.

Two-Bit motions for you to sit down in a chair by the window. You guess because it's the farthest point in the room away from Tim. Two-Bit joins Tim on the cushion-less couch. He sits down hard and they both bounce. Tim scowls.

Tim says, "So why aren't you there?"

"Why aren't we where?" Two-Bit knows full-well what Tim's asking. He winks at you.

"Why ain't you in school if school's still in?"

"Well, that's the thing, Shepard. We had this traumatizing experience in school- she and I- and we felt that it would be good for our souls if we just took the rest of the day off."

You look at Two-Bit with wide eyes. This is the first you'd realized you were taking the whole day off. Tim's eyes widen a little too.

"You have a soul?" He asks Two-Bit.

"I do, and it's been traumatized."

Tim says nothing for a minute. Two-Bit wants him to bite, and Tim really doesn't care. At last, however, he breaks. He has no other hope of getting Two-Bit to leave him alone.

"Do tell, then, Mathews. What's got your dear little brain in a titter?"

"Well, we was all outside for a fire drill…"

Tim snorts at that. You suspect that he may have some knowledge as to the origins of the fire drill. You remember Two-Bit saying the Shepard gang members had dime bags in their socks. Maybe lockers were getting searched while everyone was outside. Maybe a PO was going to check in and someone pulled the fire alarm to make a particular student just that much more difficult to find.

Two-Bit continues. "We were sharing a smoke in the sun with some members of your entourage, and they made some very inappropriate remarks to my female friend here."

Tim looks across the room at you with his bored and sleepy eyes.

"Did my friends offend you, kid?"

You frown at his calling you 'kid'.

"Not really," you tell him. "There was something they said, though, that made me feel not very safe."

Tim smirks and takes another drink of his beer. He gestures with the bottle between you and Two-Bit. "Christ, you two share a brain or something? One of you's just as full of shit as the other. What'd my boys say that made you feel not safe, honey?"

You don't appreciate him patronizing you. If you told your brothers, or Two-Bit, or even Steve Randle that some guy gave you the creeps, they'd believe you. They wouldn't make you justify yourself.

You take a long drink of your beer, imitating Tim. The alcohol hits quickly, and you wish you hadn't.

"He implied that the Shepard gang was no long feeling friendly towards my brother's gang. He then implied that I might be useful in making those feelings clear."

"He didn't say it outright though." Tim remains dubious. "He implied it and you felt threatened?"

"Call it woman's intuition."

"What about you?" Tim looks at Two-Bit. "Your women's intuition kick in then, too?"

Two-Bit shrugs. "She says she felt threatened, Shepard. If she felt that way, I'm here to tell you that I ain't happy about it. Her brothers won't be either."

You shift in your chair. This is turning in to a bigger thing than you'd meant it to be. You had just been wondering aloud to Two-Bit in the car. Now he's waking Tim up off a drunk and making him declare his intentions towards your brothers and the gang. You hope that it isn't lost on Tim that Two-Bit did buy the beer.

"Listen, Tim…" You say. He raises his eyebrows in amusement. No one ever demands that Tim "listen" or do anything else. He leans towards you with his elbows on his knees and you continue. "Your boys were a little rude this morning at school. Me and him aren't here to start shit. We're here to play pool. Right, Two-Bit? We just want to know if there was anything behind the remarks that Aronson made. Was he just being rude- because I've heard he can be- or was he trying to send a message? Did someone direct him to send a message?"

You sit back in your chair and look at Two-Bit. He looks angry. You had expected him to be amused.

Tim is neither. He tosses his empty beer bottle across the room and lands it in a metal trash can. You hear it smash against the other bottles.

"Aronson, was it?" He says. "No, he wasn't sending any message - none that he had any right to be sending anyhow. Sounds like there's a message or two I need to beat through his head this afternoon though. My apologies, doll. Guy's a dick. I'll take care of it. So, you say you came to shoot some pool? You want to play pool?"

You wait for Two-Bit to answer, but he doesn't. You realize that Tim's question is directed at you.

You tell him, "sure, if you guys want to play."

Two-Bit's silence is making you nervous now. You're confused. You feel a desperation to rope him back into the conversation.

"What do you say, Mathews?" Tim slaps Two-Bit on the back. "You want the winner between me and the Girl Scout here? Or were you thinking it would just be you and her? I don't need to butt in."

"It's up to her," Two-Bit says. "She don't need me to babysit her."

You look across the room at him, confused. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye as he takes a drink. Tim gets up and walks between you towards the kitchen.

"Pool table's in the basement, kid," he says. "I'll meet y'all down there."

You nod, still looking at Two-Bit. When Tim is gone, you expect him to break out of his huff and lean into you grinning with a plan to put some kind of something over on Tim. He doesn't.

You say, "Are you coming?"

He stands up and brushes something off his jeans that isn't there. Still frowning, he says to you, "I'm going to get another drink. You just carry on. I'll catch up to y'all in a bit."

But he doesn't.


	10. Chapter 10

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Buck Merrill's place.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

_It is an honor and privilege for a guy to teach a girl how to play pool_, your father once told you with a gleam in his icy green eyes_. The guy gets to look like he's an expert at something and he gets to put his arm around you, lean you over a table, run his hand down your arm, watch you wrap your fingers around a stick…_

…at this point, a little over a year ago now, you had asked your father to just stop talking.

"You remember that when some fella tells you he'll teach you to play pool," your father had said. "You remember it and you think of me. In fact, I don't want you to be able to get the thought of me out of your head."

Tim Shepard is leaning over you as you lean over the pool table in Buck's basement. He's positioning your fingers around the cue and talking about how it's all geometry. As if you believe that Tim Shepard knows a thing about geometry.

You blink hard and smile down at the green felt. You're thinking about your father. His image is haunting you now, and- just like your father when he was alive- he's doing it in his own squirrely way. You're going to bust up laughing any second and Tim Shepard is going to think you're stark, raving mad. You father is going to win this round.

"You just got to picture the angle in your head. Give yourself time to make a picture of what direction the ball's going to go. Take your time. Ain't no hurry."

No, Tim, of course there's no hurry. No hurry while he's got his thigh leaned into your backside, his hand moved from over top of your hand and replaced on your hip. You draw the cue back a bit and poke him in the ribs, indicating that you'd like some space.

"Have at it then," he says and steps back to lean against the wall. He retrieves his bottle of beer from the window well above his head. You try to ignore him and, instead, picture the lines in your head. You want to hit the six just off center. It shouldn't take more than a tap to send it into the side pocket.

But you're thinking about your father and you're a little buzzed. There was something about your old man- a hood with a heart of gold, your mother once admitted. He always had a little smile on his face like he was up to no good. In truth, he was quite the opposite. He'd do anything for anybody- help fix a roof, find a lost kid, give away his last cigarette to a tramp on the street. It was your father who first brought Johnny Cade home to your place. Your mother told him he'd better not get into it with Johnny's old man or he'd go to jail. Your father brought Johnny home instead. Said that if John Cade the Elder set foot on _his_ lawn then he'd have cause to get into it with him.

Your touch is a bit weak. The queue ball taps the six, but not hard enough. You hear Tim set his bottle down. He takes the cue from you, shaking his head.

"Let me show you how it's done," he mumbles through the cigarette stuck between his lips. You step back to the wall and watch him lean over the table. He drops the six, and then the ten, and then the rest of them slowly and methodically. When he gets down to the eight ball, he stops and looks at you.

"Come here. I'll give you one more shot."

You nod and walk over to take your place again between his body and the table.

He wants to see you screw it up, you are convinced. As soon as he gets his arm around yours again, he starts talking.

"So you know my brother, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he says with a little chuckle. "Kind of a douchebag, isn't he?"

You're not sure how to respond. The Shepard brothers are notoriously protective of one another. If you concur that Curly is, indeed, a total douchebag Tim very well might impale you with the stick.

Instead of waiting, Tim answers for you, "yeah, he's a little dipshit. Cries himself to sleep over you every night, though. Or at least he did. He's in the reformatory now. Probably crying himself to sleep over some guy…"

You draw back and take your shot. The cue ball hits the eight ball and sinks it into the corner pocket. The cue ball comes spinning back, stopping in front of you and Tim. Tim stands back laughing.

"Well, that got a reaction. I'm going to remember that. Next time I need to light a fire under you, I'll just bring up Curly."

You toss the cue down on to the table. You roll your eyes and walk past Tim.

"Where do you think Two-Bit went?" You ask.

Tim shrugs. "Search me. Maybe he went back to school. I don't hardly care."

"I care. He's my ride home."

"I'll give you a ride."

You smirk. "My brother will end us both if he sees me get out of your car."

Tim seems amused at the suggestion that Darry could end him. "I'll let you off around the block then."

You can't shake the funny feeling about Two-Bit though. It isn't like him to just abandon you. He'd just told you in the car to steer clear of guys like Tim Shepard. Now he's gone off and left you to Tim's mercy.

"What do you suppose got up his ass earlier?" You muse.

Tim shrugs. He's busy racking up another game.

"I don't know. You think this is how he envisioned you and him spending the afternoon?"

"He said we were going to play pool. He'd be here if he wanted to be."

"That's right," Tim stand up straight and reaches for the cue again. "He'd be here, but he ain't. Want to break?"

You want to find Two-Bit. You've lost all track of time, but you can hear footsteps upstairs. The house is beginning to fill up. Someone has turned the record player on. You can't make out the song, but you can feel the beat. It's slow. It feels country and western.

Tim shakes the cue at you.

"You'd better take your shot while you still have one, girl. I'm on fire here. If I break 'em, you ain't going to get a chance."

"What time is it? I should go."

Tim stands back from the table and digs in his front jeans pocket. For a second, you think he's got himself a pocket watch. The idea is absurd, and you'd laugh if you weren't so overcome with nerves. He's looking for his lighter anyway. Tim is not at all concerned with the time.

"I can see why Curly likes you," he says. "He thinks you're still sweet and innocent. He'd notice that- a girl who's worried about getting home before her big brother notices she's gone. Except you're going to have to go home drunk."

"I'm not drunk." You are. Not too bad, but you sure ain't sober.

Tim lights his cigarette and offers it to you.

"Could've fooled me. It's a quarter to five, honey-" He points to the water heater. There is a small, electric alarm clock sitting on top of it. The clock reads 3:10. "It's slow. The fuse keeps blowing. So, you got a choice, kid. You can go home now- drunk, or you can wait around a while and let it wear off, and go home late. Which one's going to earn you the lesser ass-kicking?"

You know the answer. "Going home late."

"That'd be my choice. If you was my little sister, I'd clean your clock if you showed up at home in the middle of the afternoon all juiced."

You frown.

"Funny that you're so happy to assist me in putting one past my big brother, being as you have a little sister yourself, Tim."

"You ain't _my_ little sister."

A year ago, if he had smiled at you the way he's smiling at you now, you would've been in heaven. You'd have been counting the minutes until he suggested you give up on pool and let him give you a tour of the rest of the joint. You might have even suggested it yourself.

Now, you're frightened. It's not anticipation but anxiety that's turning your gut. You wish for all the world that Two-Bit would break out of the funk he's in and appear on the basement stairs- smiling and telling you to get your scrawny ass in the car.

Footsteps on the stairs make you and Tim both turn. It's not Two-Bit, though. It's Jimmy, one of the guys from the fire drill this morning. He doesn't even look at you, but speaks directly to Tim.

"Shepard, you want to come up here a second? There's something we'd like your opinion on."

"I'll be right back," Tim says to you. "You want another drink? I'll get you another drink."

He bounds up the stairs, two at a time. He and Jimmy disappear. You listen to their footsteps creak across the floor above you. Even in the escalating din, you can still hear the screen door slam when they go outside. When you're sure they're gone, you climb the stairs yourself.

Buck's basement must be well-insulated. You're surprised at how many people there are in the kitchen when you reach the top of the stairs. A keg has appeared. There are girls now. You look around for signs of Sylvia, but no one is familiar.

You were right about the music- it's Wanda Jackson on the record player. No one's dancing yet, but the couples are starting to cling to one another. Already, they're pairing off for the evening.

A familiar laugh pulls your through the kitchen towards the front room. You're sure someone trails their hand over your behind as you pass by. You don't care. You're on a mission.

You spot Two-Bit in the front room. He hasn't left you. He's been here all along. He's laughing. He's got a beer in his hand and a cigarette pinched between his middle and index finger- just the way you left him.

Two-Bit turns away from you and reaches out with his free hand. From the crowd, he draws- more like plucks- a girl to him. You recognize her. Her name is Kathy. You don't know her, but you know of her- or you know Two-Bit's version of her. One week they're on, the next week they're off. Your mind darts back to the condoms in the glove compartment. You'd guess that means this week Two-Bit and Kathy are on.

A body steps in between you and your view of Two-Bit and Kathy. You have to blink. It's too close and too sudden.

"Where you going, Fire Drill?" It's Aronson, towering over you and blocking your exit.

"I got to get home."

"Where to? Oh, shit…East Saint Louis. Right. That's fair piece, baby. You need a ride?"

Aronson is the last person on earth you want a ride from. You could fool yourself into believing you've built a rapport with Tim. You have no such relationship to fall back on with Aronson. He thinks your name is Fire Drill.

"I got one," you tell him.

"You think so? Shepard said you came with Two-Bit. Looks like he's occupied otherwise."

"It ain't like that. He's just my friend. He'll give me a ride."

And right then, Two-Bit pulls the girl in tight in the crook of his arm. They lock in a kiss that makes you uncomfortable to watch. It amuses the hell out of Aronson.

"I don't think he's ready to go yet."

"Shut the hell up," you tell him. "I got a ride."

You push past him and he raises arms in mock-surrender. Half-way across the room, you stop. Two-Bit and the girl are still snuggled together, rubbing noses, and giggling. She's curvy. Her tits defy gravity. She looks like she's hard and soft in all the right places. You wouldn't leave her for you either.

You push past the faceless bodies between you and the door and walk out on to the porch. Tim and Jimmy are leaning against the front fender of Tim's car looking over something that Jimmy is holding. Their backs are towards you and the house. You scurry silently down the shattered concrete walk and down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. You walk quickly until you're sure you're out of sight.

It's getting dark. You're in a heightened state of self-awareness stage of drunk. You don't know if you're walking or running. You want to be walking, but you're afraid you might look like you're running to passersby. You wonder if you're weaving. The straighter you try to walk, the more conspicuous you feel.

Two-Bit walks home from Buck's all the time, he's told you_. If you're buzzed it doesn't seem that far_.

Right now, it seems like miles. You keep walking and hope that Tim is right. Maybe the walk will be long enough to burn off your buzz before you get back home where Darry's waiting and wondering where the hell you've been.


	11. Chapter 11

SE Hinton owns it.

I have to admit, I like this chapter.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Still the same day in January, 1966-

You make it about three blocks before he catches up to you. Steve and Soda must have worked some magic on his exhaust system. You would have expected to hear Two-Bit's car coming, but you don't. He pulls up to your side and says, "Lovely night for a walk". You almost jump out of your skin.

"…the fuck, Two-Bit!" You squeak at him.

He puts the car in park.

"What are you doing?" He says. "Like Darrel ain't going to kill me as it stands now. He's going to do it slow and painful if I let you walk home on your lonesome."

You shuffle your feet and shrug. "It was my decision to walk home. Darry can kill me for it."

"Nah. If one of us if going to take the heat, it might as well be me. He told me I wasn't to take you there."

He pauses to light a cigarette. You look him over. His posture has changed again. He's looser and not angry. Whatever it was that was bothering him has blown over. You wonder where Kathy went.

"You looked kind of busy when I left," you say. "I didn't want to get in the way."

Two-Bit shakes his head and looks up at the darkening sky. "You seen that? Hell, that's just me and that girl and too many beers between us. You take away the beer and…How'd it go with Shepard?"

"I think he was up three games or so. I can't play pool for shit, it seems."

Two-Bit grins. "Your daddy'd be rolling over in his grave to hear you say that. Damn, your old man was a shark. Taught me how to play. Caught me in a bar once when I was thirteen. Instead of drop-kicking me home he bought me soda pops all night and taught me how to play pool."

That sounds about right to you. Two-Bit's dad ditched them when Two-Bit was twelve or so. Your dad had taken a special interest in him after that. Before, it was Mrs. Mathews and your mom who were friends. Two-Bit is between Darry's and Soda's ages. Until Two-Bit fell behind in high school, he was never in the same grade with your brothers. They didn't really become friends until after Two-Bit's dad left and your dad brought him in to the fold.

"So you were planning on just passing that skill on to me since he ain't here to do it?"

"Something like that. Come on, kid. I need you to drive us home. I'm pretty blazed." He steps towards you and motions to the open door of the Plymouth.

"Really? I never would've guessed. I can't drive, Two-Bit."

"I thought Dally taught you."

"He did, sort of. The court says I'm not supposed to drive till I'm eighteen, though."

Two-Bit laughs out loud. "They banned you from driving?"

"Since my crime was committed behind the wheel of a motor vehicle, yes."

He cocks that eyebrow. "But they didn't ban you from drinking?"

"Wasn't drinking when I got arrested."

"Well, how many you had?"

"The one you gave me and another. Maybe half of Tim's."

"Feather-weight. Know how many I've had?"

"No."

"Me neither," he says and dangles the keys at you. You give in and take them.

* * *

><p>Two-Bit shifts on the passenger side. You think he's trying to make himself comfortable to nap. At last he wedges himself into enough of a corner between the seat and door that he's almost facing you. He doesn't go to sleep. He sits and watches you and hums to the radio.<p>

"You're creeping me out," you say.

"Me? I creep you out?"

"Generally, no. Right now, yeah. Why are you looking at me?"

"I can't look at you? Want me to stop?"

"Yes. It's making me nervous."

"I make you nervous?" God, he's annoying when he's had a few.

"Christ, Two-Bit. Being watched, right now, while I'm trying to illegally drive your car is making me nervous."

"But I don't usually make you nervous…"

"No. Usually, you make me laugh."

"That's good. You don't laugh enough, kiddo."

"Really? What makes you say that?"

He fidgets some more. He takes a lighter- one you haven't seen before- out of his jacket pocket and begins flicking it on and off. It's only slightly less unnerving than him watching you drive.

He says to the flicker, "It ain't like when we were kids."

"Sure as hell ain't."

"Well, yeah, everything's different now, but you ain't like you were. Even before your mom and dad… you just got serious. Got quiet."

"Didn't have anything to say, I guess. Got tired of trying to be heard."

"Why didn't you say anything to me? I'd have listened."

You're not sure where this conversation is going, but it's making your chest constrict like you might start crying. You wish you could take back the beer you drank. You blame it on the beer anyway.

You tell him, "You're like everybody else. You got a girlfriend…or girlfriends. You're occupied."

"I ain't that occupied. And I ain't never had a serious girlfriend. There's just girls and they're my friends."

"I'm not sure if they're thinking along those lines."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I get in trouble there sometimes. Point is, I known you longer. I mean, it's your brothers I hang out with, but you've always been around. Seems we ought to be able to talk to each other."

"Okay, shoot," you say with a sigh. " What do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing. I thought you did."

"I just want to drive. I said I didn't have anything to talk about."

You can feel him frowning. From the corner of your eye, you see the lighter flicker again.

"You still all in love with Shepard?" He asks you.

Your protest comes out sounding like over-kill. "God, who told you that? No, I'm not all in love with Shepard. Seems he lost some of his charm now that I've got as much of a record as he does."

"Well, I wouldn't go quite that far. Even I don't have a record quite like Shepard does. You used to be awful stuck on him. Never understood why."

"He's easy on the eyes."

"That's it?"

"I don't know. I guess. I'm over it, though."

"Really? Promise?"

"Promise? Why do I have to promise?"

"Because you ought to have someone better than that. He wouldn't treat you right. I know Shepard and girls. You don't want that."

"Fine, then. I promise I'm over Shepard."

"Good." Silence. A silent Two-Bit is a hard-thinking Two-Bit. It doesn't happen often, but when it does the next thing out of his mouth is typically something that will knock you on your ass.

He doesn't disappoint: "What about me?"

"What about you?"

"You ever think about me and you giving it a go?"

"Like going out? Like I could be one of the girls you're friends with?"

This wounds him. There is a quick sniff of breath and then says, "No, like you be my girlfriend. Seriously."

You take a breath and remind yourself how drunk he is. He won't remember this conversation in the morning. Come tomorrow night, he'll be back with Kathy or Krissy or Karen or whoever. If he does remember it, he'll hide from you for a week hoping you'll forget too.

"I'll have to think about it," you say, thinking it will buy you both some time.

That seems to satisfy him. He wiggles out of his corner and fiddles with the radio.

"Good deal. You think about it. Don't think I'll forget now. I'm going to ask you again."

"I'll be waiting," you reply because you're convinced that he won't.

* * *

><p>It's fully dark by the time you reach your street. Two-Bit has been instructing you on which back alleys and side streets to follow. You don't meet any cops, but it takes you twice as long as it should.<p>

You stop the car in front of the house. He gets out when you do.

You say to him over the roof of the car, "You don't have to come in with me."

"Wasn't going to," he says and winks at you. "Going to leave my car here and walk. More like run."

"And they say chivalry is dead."

"You get chivalry after you promise to go out with me, not before. I got me a limited amount of chivalry. I can't be doling it out to just anyone."

You crack up at that. He's smiling at you, and you realize you're smiling back. You don't want to go inside. You want to stay out on the curb and look Two-Bit up and down. You've been aware of him since you were old enough to walk, but you still can't figure him. You're convinced if you just stayed outside and looked at him, you might come up with a clue.

He points towards the house behind you.

"Here it comes," he says.

The screen door creaks open and then slams. You can hear Darry's footsteps coming across the porch and down the walk. You don't turn to face him until he hits the gate. Even before you turn around, you know he's going to literally hit the gate. It's going to fly open, bounce against the fence and back into his hand.

Two-Bit winces. You turn around.

"I'm late," you say, hoping to focus him on the one of your crimes that will earn you the less ass-kicking. Darry isn't fooled.

"Are you drunk?" He asks.

You jerk your head back towards the car. "On a scale of one to Two-Bit, I'm about a three."

Darry snorts at you. He pulls you towards the gate by the shoulder.

"You get inside," he tells you. "Mathews and I need to have a talk."

You turn to mouth _I'm sorry _at Two-Bit, but he's already launched into his defense.

"I know what you said, Darrel, but I thought…well, you know how she is. She's the rebellious sort. I thought maybe some reverse psychology. Maybe that'd be the way to go."

You don't want to hear the rest. You run towards the house, grinning all the way. The living room is lit up like a carnival. Whenever anyone is late, Darry lights the place up like a beacon- every lamp, every bulb, even the garage light. Yours is the brightest house on the block. His plan is to draw you home like you're a moth.

You bounce down on the sofa next to Ponyboy, who looks at you with could be either revulsion or envy.

"So, it was Two-Bit, huh?" You ask him.

"What was Two-Bit?"

"The boy you said liked me. All this time, it was Two-Bit."

He nods. "Don't know how you managed to miss that. He talks about you all the time."

"Apparently, not when I'm around."

"Well, he's always looking at you. He thinks everything that comes out of your mouth is brilliant."

"I guess I did miss that. I always thought he saw me like another little sister."

Pony shakes his head and says, widening his eyes, "No, most definitely not."

"You want to tell me about that?"

"No, I really don't." His ears might be turning red. You know yours are. You're not sure you want to know what Two-Bit has been saying about you.

The screen door opens and you both jump. Darry enters and walks past you.

"Dishes," he says.

You and Ponyboy exchange looks.

You answer, "Yes, there are some" to Darry and Pony cringes.

Darry whips around midway through the dining room.

"Wash them if you think you're sober enough to stand at the sink. Otherwise, get to bed."

"It's only…"

"I know what time it is. You're going to feel like hell when I get you up for school tomorrow, little miss. I suggest you start sleeping it off now."

He stalks into the kitchen, slamming everything he touches. He opens the refrigerator, gets a beer, slams the door. Then he goes out the back, slams that door, and kicks something across the backyard.

"You're an idiot," Ponyboy says.

"Who cares? I had a good time," you tell him, although you're not sure that you really did. "You going to help me with dishes?"

"No."

"Thank you. I'm going to remember this the next time you ask me for anything."

Ponyboy has never asked you for anything ever in his life.

You go to the kitchen and look at the dishes. They seem overwhelming. There is nothing but beer in the refrigerator. You go back to the dining room and take an apple from the bowl on the table.

Once in your room, you find yourself wondering what going out with Two-Bit, what kissing Two-Bit or doing anything else with Two-Bit would be like. Then you tell yourself again, "he ain't going to remember".

You can hear Darry outside. He's sitting on the back step next to your window, drinking his beer. You can hear him breathing. You wonder if he thinks he's standing guard. You doze off listening to him breathe. For all you know, he's out there all night.


	12. Chapter 12

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Darry is wrong.

You feel just fine when you wake up the next morning. Still, you're in yesterday's clothes, and you want a shower to rinse the grime of smoke off of you.

The shower is running, though. You wait for a few minutes and listen to the other noises around the house.

Darry and Sodapop are talking about something in the kitchen. Darry is grumbling. Soda is teasing him. The sound of his voice reminds you of Marla's note. It's still in your math book at school.

You get out of bed, choose your clothes, and wrap up in your blanket. Soda flies by you in the hall.

"Hey," you say to him. "Who's driving?"

"Well, good morning, glory." He grins at you. You're sure you must look like hell. "Steve's driving, which means he's going to be here…"

"Right on time, I know. Come to my locker with me when we get to school. I got something for you."

"What's that?"

"Your friend Marla gave me a note to give to you."

Soda's reaction is noncommittal. He nods and then shrugs. It's uncharacteristic of Sodapop. You would have expected either a bright grin or a "blech!".

It puzzles you so you call after him to confirm: "Come to my locker."

"Yep, coming to your locker," he shouts back from the bedroom he and Ponyboy share. Just then, Pony himself emerges from the bathroom and you slip by him, mumbling "good morning".

Pony mumbles back. You shut the bathroom door and get in the shower.

Darry is gone to work when you come out. You're glad for it, especially since you don't have a hangover like he predicted. Darry hates being wrong, and he probably would have felt it necessary to think up another way to punish you if he knew that you felt just fine and dandy.

You're just pouring yourself the last of the coffee when Steve starts whaling on the horn outside. Pony is out the door first, moving slowly, but ready to go. Soda is running back and forth in a zigzag, picking up things as he heads for the door. You follow him, but remember that you don't have a coat.

"Soda, I left my jacket at school."

"Well, that was dumb of you."

"And the pot calls the kettle what? You got a sweater or something?"

He growls in his throat- you're derailing his thought process, you know- but darts back into his room anyway. He returns with a green cardigan. It's mohair and the color of vomit. You've never seen him wear it and you have no idea where it came from. You thank him anyway and follow him out the door.

Maybe the alcohol did do something to your brain because you don't remember the conversation with Two-Bit until you see him sitting in the front seat of Steve's car. Your heart leaps a little. You don't have time to decide whether it's because you want to see him or because you don't want to.

You close the gate behind you and hop into the back next to Soda. Two-Bit turns around to wink at you.

"'Morning," he says.

Soda answers for you: "Good morning. Hey, what the hell did you two get up to yesterday? I never seen Darry so pissed."

"Darry's pissed?" Pony asks. "He didn't seem pissed. He seemed out of it. He was all quiet and spacey."

"That's what I mean. Whatever you did, girl, you leveled him. You've officially drained the rage out of Darry."

Pony says, "Congratulations."

"Yeah," Soda continues. "Ponyboy couldn't even pull that off. Shit, you both been fugitives…"

"I wasn't a fugitive," you remind him.

"Yeah, 'cause you were dumb enough to get caught right off," Steve says. You kick the back of his seat.

"Well, whatever you done, it's worse than when either one of you brought down the law." Soda stops suddenly and looks back and forth between you and Two-Bit, confused. "What _did_ you do?"

"We went to Buck's. I played pool with Tim Shepard," you tell him. "What'd you do, Two-Bit?"

"Not a goddamned thing. While you and Timmy lorded over the pool table, I was forced to drink beer and attempt to converse with Merrill."

"Eww, I'm sorry," you say.

"You should be," he replies. Then he turns back and winks at you again. "You owe me."

* * *

><p>Soda follows you to your locker. You hand him the note and he tries to walk away without reading it.<p>

"Dumbie, I'm going to see her in the library in five minutes. She's going to want to know if you read it."

"Tell her I read it."

"Soda, what's the deal with her? She wants to get all friendly with me."

"So, be friendly back. That's up to you. It might be cool if you had a girl kind of friend again."

You scowl at him. You know what he means.

You reply, "Yeah, and I'd like to know it isn't going to be one I'm going to lose to you this time."

He stuffs the note in his back pocket and looks at you. He puts his hands on his hips, just like your mom used to do almost every single time she had something to say to you.

"That ain't right, and you know it. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm going to have to think on it. She's a nice enough girl, though. She'd be a good friend for you. She sure as hell ain't going to cajole you into stealing any cars."

With that, he taps you on the head with his Geometry book and turns away. He looks up at the clock and breaks into a run down the hall.

The bell rings and you slip into the library late, but undetected by anyone but Marla.

She is sitting at a table in the center of the room. The sun is in her hair. She is wearing a sweater highlighted with beads and sequins. It makes her seems to sparkle all the more.

She is grinning down at the newspaper she's pretending to read.

"Are all the clocks late at your house? Is the east side in a different time zone? You don't have a whole lot of respect for time, do you?"

"I can respect time," you tell her, sliding into a chair across from her. You're still wearing Soda's puke-colored sweater. It looks even more pukey in comparison to Marla's. "Just sometimes there's things more important than school that take up my time."

"Please tell me one of those things is talking to your brother."

You admit to her, "I just gave him the note this morning. Yesterday afternoon was sort of a wash."

"That's okay. I'll see him at lunch. Are you staying for lunch today?"

"Going to try. We'll see how long I last."

You pick up a stack of books and start shelving. Marla does the same. You watch her while she does it.

The similarities between Marla and Sandy are obvious, maybe even a little spooky.

Since first grade, you and Sandy Stuart were joined at the hip. You could finish each other's sentences, and your knowledge of her leaves you feeling like you know what to expect from Marla. They both have the same open, bubbly nature. Both of them are more confident than you and not as impulsive. At first meeting, you appear to be the daring one, but really it's Sandy and Marla who are the type to take on something big and carry it to fruition.

Your relationship with Sandy started to change when you hit high school. Sandy was a girl's girl- the kind that boys stopped what they were doing to watch walk by. You were more the type to be the person the boys were hanging with when they were suddenly distracted by Sandy.

Steve and Evie had been dating since the eighth grade. When Soda asked Sandy out, Evie drove the final nail into your friendship with Sandy. Now Evie and Sandy had dates to prepare for together. They had a common bond and- sometimes- a common enemy in Soda and Steve. You just had a massive crush on Tim Shepard, which nobody- yourself included- understood.

Still, it was you who Sandy called late in August, right before school started. She was shy on the phone at first. A distance had grown between you. You still knew her well enough, though, to know something was wrong.

"Can you come over?" She'd asked.

"Now? Darry ain't going to let me."

"You can get out. Just meet me in the park."

Neither of you liked to meet at Sandy's house. Her dad was a tyrant and her mom made you nervous. You agreed to sneak out and meet her in the park.

You met her at the swings and you both sat and swung for a while before she said anything. She told you what was up and who with, and you told her you didn't get why she was telling you.

"Because you know how he is, and how all of them are. You'll know if I should tell him or not."

"You want _me_ to tell him."

"I'd like you to be there when I do. If I do."

You dug your heels into the ground. Your swing lurched to a stop.

"I don't think you should."

"What?" Sandy stops swinging herself too. She doesn't put the brakes on, though. She lets momentum just die instead.

"You wanted to know what I thought? That's what I think. It ain't his. The person you ought to be telling is Stevie. Let Steve figure out what to say to Soda. I mean…Christ, how did you let it happen?"

And then she turned on you. You could probably chalk it up to fear or guilt or even hormones, but it still hurt. It still made you not want to give a damn what happened to her after that.

"You wouldn't get it. You don't know anything about boys anyway. You wouldn't have the first idea of how I let 'it' happen. You don't even know how 'it' happens. God, I don't know why I even told you. You're such a child."

You hopped off your swing then and started to walk away. If she'd called out to you that she was sorry, you wouldn't have turned around. She didn't call out, though. Sandy disappeared.

* * *

><p>You hate the cafeteria. It's too loud. You don't know how people eat there. When Dally was in school, there was almost certain to be a fight at some point. You learned to welcome it: having lunch cut short and being sent to finish your food in the hall.<p>

The news of the de-escalation of violence between the greasers and the Socs hasn't reached the teachers at Will Rogers yet. They're still on their toes, waiting for the fight. They don't seem to notice that the lines have blurred. It isn't greasers on one side and Socs on the other so much anymore. The teachers and the food service people are still on edge- and you all know exactly who they're going to blame at the slightest inkling of a ruckus.

You want to shout out that Dally is dead, remember? The instigator is gone. You're all just a bunch of kids now without him to defend or despise. Of course, shouting in the cafeteria would make you the instigator then, and you don't have the energy for it. All of your mental energy is trained on making it through lunch with Soda and Marla, Steve and Evie, and Two-Bit.

You pick up your tray and turn away from the kitchen and towards the din. Marla sees you and waves. She's already standing with Soda, Steve, and Evie. If Evie's eyes roll up any farther into her head, she's going to have a seizure. Steve is hanging back. Clearly, he and Soda have read and discussed Marla's note in Auto Mechanics. Steve has already said his piece and now his work here is done. He just wants to eat his tater tots.

You steps towards them, but Two-Bit intersects you.

"Come 'ere, kid. You'll want to see this."

You shrug an apology to Marla, while protesting to Two-Bit, "I said I'd eat with…"

"Come on. We'll catch up to them. We need to check in with some old friends first."

You follow him across the cafeteria to a corner still dominated by greasers- the roughest greasers, the real hoods. Even you don't feel comfortable walking in their midst.

Aronson is sitting at the farthest table with Jimmy and Art Baker.

"Good day, gents," Two-Bit says to them.

Jimmy doesn't turn around. Aronson looks up. There's a fresh cut on his lip, one that wasn't there yesterday.

"Jesus, Aronson," Two-Bit says with theatric marvel. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Why don't you ask your little girlfriend? This is all her running her mouth."

He glares at you. You're about to protest that you're not Two-Bit's girlfriend, but then you're not sure if you are or not.

"I only asked for clarification. You were the one who ran your mouth," you tell him.

Even Two-Bit is surprised by that. He steps closer to you and puts himself between you and Aronson. Aronson starts to stand up, but then sits down again when Two-Bit moves.

"You sure know how to wrap 'em around your little finger, don't you?" He says to you. "This dumb fucker, Shepard-"

Jimmy and Art Baker both shift on their bench. Aronson's willingness to badmouth Tim makes them nervous. The obvious descent in their ranks makes you feel brave.

"What? This finger?" You ask and flip him off.

"And, it's lunchtime," Two-Bits says. He turns your shoulders away from the Shepard gang table and pushes you towards the center of the cafeteria.

"Remember when I told you to stay out of the water?" He says from behind you.

You glare at him over your shoulder. "Would that have been right before you ditched me with Tim yesterday?"

"Shit, you did just fine with Tim. I think Aronson's right on that one. And I didn't ditch you. I was upstairs the whole time, and you were never alone with anyone _but_ Tim."

"Really?" You ask. "You were so fully aware of whom I was alone with while you were getting lit and making out with Kathy?"

"Oh Jesus," he mumbles. You feel the physical distance grow between the two of you. You stop and turn around. He's stopped several feet behind you.

He steps towards you. "If I never have another drink and never look at another girl again, there's still going to be times when I can't watch out for you. And those guys have an uncanny talent for knowing exactly when those times are going to be. Don't fan the flames, okay?"

"Don't mix metaphors," you tell him.

He raises the eyebrow.

"Stay out of the water, fan the flames…which is it?"

"Let's just eat," Two-Bit says. "What's with the Marla chick? She and Soda back on?"

"She'd like them to be," you say. "What do you think? Are you for or against that?"

Two-Bit shrugs. He doesn't smile at all when he says, "don't much care either way. I got my own girl to worry about."


	13. Chapter 13

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. Oh, it's lucky Chapter 13.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

If Dallas Winston has a headstone- and it occurs to you that you've never visited his grave- only a short, simple series of words need be engraved on it beneath his name: _instigator, climber, son of bitch_.

Dally loved to climb things. He did it because it scared people and their terror brought him joy. Girls would shriek. Guys would throw things up at him and tell him he was out of his fucking mind. Dally felt powerful up high, and that was why Dally knew about the bell tower.

There is a bell tower on top of the oldest part of the school building. There used to be a bell, but it's long gone. The tower has been deemed unsafe and is closed. Dally spent days observing the school from outside and then sneaking around inside trying to figure out where the entrance was. When he found it, he only told Johnny. Johnny, he figured, needed a place to hide more than anyone.

Johnny showed you the day Mr. Embertson threw you both out of algebra for supposedly cheating. You weren't cheating- it's not like you were taking a test. You and Johnny were comparing answers on a worksheet, something you routinely did at home on your porch. Your mother made you and Johnny do your math homework together- since you both sucked at it- and then she would check it for you. She encouraged the two of your to work together.

One day, you forgot and you asked Johnny what he had for question five during class. That got you both tossed out in to the hall. Mr. Embertson should have written you a pass to detention, but he didn't. He didn't really care where you went.

Johnny took you to the bell tower. You waited out the hour together and then went on to your next classes.

After that, it became the safe haven whenever any of the three of you got sent to detention or just couldn't handle sitting in a desk anymore. When Ponyboy got bumped up a grade, Johnny brought him in on the secret, too.

Today, it isn't a teacher that has you hiding in the bell tower. It's Two-Bit.

It was clear that, by the time you and Two-Bit reached the lunch table, some kind of progress had been made between Soda and Marla. Everyone but Evie seemed content. They were all talking about a basketball game. Two-Bit joined right in. You poked at your food. Ponyboy came and sat down.

When the bell rang, Evie and Steve stood up and backed away from the table in a lip-lock that made the cafeteria staff nervous. Marla squeezed Soda's arm. He grinned down on her and then gave her a quick kiss. When you stood up, Two-Bit kissed you. It was quick, on the temple. It was more brotherly than anything else, but it sure got everyone's attention.

Soda said, "Jeez, somebody kiss Pony. He's going to feel left out."

Ponyboy fled. So did you.

You went straight up into the bell tower.

The place is full of dust. There are cracks between the boards where light and dirt floats in from the outside. The dust is thick enough to write in. There's still a swipe mark where Dally had written Sylvia's name once, and then brushed away with his foot.

It makes your insides feel heavy, thinking about what Sandy said about you and boys. You don't know anybody _but_ boys, it seems, but you don't know anything about them. Not like this. You kissed Johnny once. You've played the spin-the-bottle. You made out with a guy from another school backstage before a speech competition. You never saw him again. You liked it that way.

And then there was Ruby in the bus station. Most likely, he's dead. You don't know anything more about him. Sandy was right- you're a child, and you don't know anything at all.

A shuffle below you makes you start. There's a screech of wood against wood. Air from the open trap door thirty feet below sends up a swirl of dust. You hear cursing.

"I ain't coming up there, so you'd better give me a sign that I ain't just talking to myself."

It's Two-Bit's voice. Two-Bit is afraid of heights. Dally had endless hours of fun with that.

You peek over the ledge, but don't say anything. You wonder how Two-Bit knows about the bell tower. He's been in high school longer than any of you, longer than most people. He probably knew about it before Dally, but never wanted to climb up.

"We got to go to American Lit.," he calls up to you.

"I'm coming. I don't need you to hold my hand."

"I know that, but I thought maybe you might want to. Or something."

If you didn't before, now you feel like a jerk.

He doesn't wait for you to answer. "Come on. I promise I won't kiss you again in front of people. Or ever, I guess, if you don't want. Just come on, kid."

"Would you quit calling me that? I ain't a kid."

You can see his Chessie Cat grin in the dimness below. "Don't I know it? What else do you want me to call you?"

"How about by my name?"

"Fine, then. Come on, Marina, we got to go to class."

You relent and climb down. At the base of the bell tower, you pause to brush yourself off. Two-Bit raises his hands a couple of time to assist you, then thinks better of it and drops them to his sides again.

"What about here?" He asks. "Ain't nobody here now."

"Ghosts," you say. You half-believe it.

"Hell, it's just Dal and Johnny," he says. He leans forward and kisses you on the forehead. When you roll your eyes, he grins and kisses you for real.

* * *

><p>You go straight home after school. <em>You had better be there when Darry gets home<em>, Soda and Pony both implored you. They're convinced you've broken Darry's spirit. A show of obedience is the only thing that will bring him back.

The mailman is coming to the gate just as you are. He smiles, says "hello", and hands you a couple of envelopes. You recognize the electric bill and flip by it. The second letter is addressed to Sodapop Curtis. You stop behind the gate and frown at that it. You know that handwriting. You and she have passed a million notes back and forth, and there's no mistaking it.

The post mark is from a town you've never heard of in Florida. The envelope is thick. She's damn-near written him a book. There might be pictures inside as well.

You walk up the path to the house, still staring at it. You turn it over and inspect the seal. No way you could open it without wrecking the envelope.

Inside the house, it is silent. On a normal day, you like it this way. You work faster in the quiet, and there is endless housework you could be doing. You toss the electric bill into Darry's chair and then walk through the house to Soda and Pony's bedroom.

You look at their bed. You lift Soda's pillow to stash the letter underneath. You let the pillow drop, but you're still holding the letter. You tap it against the bedspread. You know you ought to just leave it. You ought to let the whole thing be.

The screen door opens and then slams. Ponyboy is home. He calls out to you and then complains that the house is freezing.

"Jeez, you want to make some cocoa?" He yells at you.

You step out into the hall before he catches you in his room. He's in the front room. The TV is on now.

"Sure," you shout back to him. "Just a second."

You dash into your bedroom and toss Sandy's letter in your dresser drawer. You take off Soda's puke-colored sweater and go into the dining room. You lay the sweater over a chair, and head to the back porch for the milk.

The End of Part One.

...To be continued at my leisure. :P


	14. Chapter 14

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, still

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Late January, 1966

You kick at the dusting of snow on the sidewalk. It's too cold to be walking, but Soda has the truck, and you don't want to ask for a ride.

Darry told you to walk over to Colleen's and get a jar of tomato sauce, but you know it's not really about that. Dinner's finished. You don't need tomato sauce until tomorrow night, if then. Darry is sending you to Colleen Mathews' house to "talk".

Colleen used to be your mother's best friend. You like her. You feel more comfortable around her than you ever did your own mother. Before your fascination with Sylvia, you used to go to Colleen for advice. Really, it was a long time ago that you went to Colleen for advice on anything, but you guess Darry's banking that some of that bond still exists. Colleen keeps a looser reign on her kids. Anything sounds a little bit cooler coming from her.

You don't know what Darry and Two-Bit talked about the night you came home drunk from Buck's. You do know that Darry has consented to your date with Two-Bit on two conditions: you will not be going alone. Rather, you will be triple-dating with Soda and Marla and Steve and Evie. The second condition involves Two-Bit's mom and a jar of tomato sauce.

Colleen Mathews can certainly can tomatoes. This is not up for debate. Darry has a jones for spaghetti. Colleen's basement supply of sauce is always open to the Curtis', she says. Her door is always open, too. She knows you're coming. When you get to the house, it's open behind the screen. The gas heater in the living room is struggling to keep up.

You rap on the screen door. Two-Bit's sister, Darla, darts out of her room to open it. Colleen comes from the kitchen, though, snaps her fingers and Darla retreats again. Colleen doesn't come all the way to the door. She yells, "come on in, honey" at you and goes back into the kitchen. You step inside. When you pause to kick off your boots, she calls out not to bother, that the place is filthy.

You look around. It is kind of filthy. Not dirty, exactly, but cluttered. It reflects the Mathews clan pretty well. They move, act, and talk like their heads are cluttered. Mrs. Mathews never had to raise kids like you and Soda. Your mother learned to keep your house sparse. Your heads worked better that way.

You take your boots off anyway and go to the kitchen.

"Sit down, baby. You want some coffee? Son of a bitch, it's a cold one out there."

She knows you like it when she cusses around you. She knows it bumps her up a couple of notches on the cool ladder. You wonder if she knows that it's her son she's about to rail on you against. Did Darry tell her that much, or did he just tell her you were dating and would she please talk to you about boys?

"So, how you been?" She motions to a chair at the kitchen table. There is a jar of tomato sauce on the table, set there to convince you that the conversation about to unfold is spontaneous. It's a prop.

You shrug and accept a cup of coffee. "Alright, I guess."

"Sounds like you're doing better than alright."

She isn't wasting any time, is she? You look around for Darla, hoping for a rescue. Darla's twelve. Colleen isn't going to want her to hear this.

"Yeah, I'm alright."

"Well, the grapevine says you got a date tomorrow night."

The grapevine is short. It runs directly from Darry's chair to Colleen's kitchen. You shrug again.

"Darrel called," you say to your coffee cup. When you raise your eyes, Colleen is grinning at you.

She nods. She sits down across from you, but you guess it will only be for a minute. Colleen never stays still too long.

"Yeah, he did. He's just worried, 'Rina. He don't know…and he knows he don't, and that's good. You can tell me whatever you want. You know, stuff you don't want to ask Darrel."

There isn't much to tell. You've kissed her son in a dusty bell tower at your high school. You don't even hold his hand in the halls. He doesn't dare lay a hand on you in front of your oldest brother.

Colleen frowns at your silence. "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

You can't think of anything. Maybe there are too many questions swirling in your head at once. You're overwhelmed by the possibilities. Most of all you're overwhelmed that everyone seems to assume you're going to sleep with him. If all that was going to happen was the two of going to a movie, no one would be calling the neighbors and setting up girl talks.

"I can't think of anything," you tell her and glance woefully at the tomato sauce.

"Uh uh. You ain't getting out here that easy, miss. I got a few questions of my own."

As predicted, Colleen is up and back at the sink. She washes something and then turns back to you.

"How old is he?"

A small beacon of light shines down from the Heavens. She doesn't know it's Two-Bit, or at least she's going to play along that she doesn't.

"He's eighteen."

"So he's a senior?"

"I guess." You don't know what Two-Bit is. He's taking classes across three grades. He's in a class by himself.

"And you're sixteen now. You're a sophomore?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Colleen nods. This is seems okay to her. Not preferable, but okay.

"Does he drink?"

God, yes. "Yes, ma'am. Some."

"Well, my experience there says drop him like a hot rock, Marina. If I'd have only known what I was in for when I married Keith and Darla's daddy. I know Keith drinks sometimes, and I guess he's alright."

You bite your lip. You don't know what's funnier: that she doesn't realize she's talking about Keith or that you didn't immediately know who Keith was when she said his name.

Colleen warms up your coffee. You grip the cup. You sense that she's winding up to get serious again.

"Can I ask you something?"

You nod. She's going to ask it anyway.

"What do you know…I mean, what have you done with boys, Marina? I mean, have there been any?"

"Like dating?" You're going to make her work for this one. You're going to make her use the words.

She can't quite do it, though. "Like fooling around."

Fooling around is such a general term. You want specific terminology, something that would give you some kind of clue of what is supposed to happen- like, how much after how many dates? First base means what again? You want an anatomy lesson.

Colleen mistakes your silence for mistrust. She sits down again.

"You can tell me. I won't tell your brother. I made that part of the deal with him. I said whatever you say stays right here."

That must have about killed Darry.

You shake your head and tell her, "not much, ma'am."

"Well, you know you don't have to do anything that you don't want to."

Please, what neighborhood did this woman grow up in?

"What if I want to?" You ask her because you're not going to get the information any other way.

Colleen grins. "Well, all of the sudden, I feel your mama's apparition on my shoulder telling me I'd better tell you to hold out till marriage."

"Did you?" You ask, and then, "Did she?"

"Me? No, and I got Keith as a result. That ought to be enough to put you off it for a good long while. Your mom- I think she did. Your daddy was a different kind of guy, though. I always had a little crush on him. When we were in school, I mean. Not after they were married…I gave up on… I mean…"

She grins, and you can see Two-Bit in it. She shakes her head. You can tell it's taking everything she's got not to stand up and fly across the kitchen again.

"I always wished I could have a guy like your daddy who would treat me like a lady. I think, though, I probably could have had that if only I'd acted like a lady first. You know what I mean, honey?"

You know what she means. In that instant you also know that you have to find Sylvia Ryan.

* * *

><p>"I don't know if I like this," Soda says.<p>

"What's that? Steve driving?" Two-Bit replies. "I don't like it either. Gives me the willies."

Steve flips Two-Bit the bird.

Two-Bit says, "Hey, hey…both hands on the wheel there, buddy."

Steve is driving, so Evie gets the coveted shotgun position. Any other day, that seat would be Soda's. This evening, however, he's in the back with you and Two-Bit as the five of you drive to Bennies, where Marla is waiting.

Soda is not talking about the seating arrangement though.

"No, you and her." He gestures to you and Two-Bit. "I mean, sorry, man, but I just don't want to think about it."

"Then don't think about," you tell him. "I don't want to think about you thinking about it."

"What are we thinking about?" Steve says. "Can we think out loud so I don't feel like a loser up here?"

"Marina and Two-Bit as a couple," Evie tells him.

"Oh. Well, Two-Bit with any girl creeps me out," Steve says. "I try not to think about that."

Soda stammers. "I just…I mean, this…"

He gestures to Two-Bit's arm across your shoulder.

You point out that Two-Bit's put his arm around your shoulder plenty of times before: standing outside in the cold during fire drills, at your parent's funerals, when Dally called you names.

"This is different," Soda says. "You know it's different."

Two-Bit has been strangely quiet up until now. He's hardly said a word since you all got in the car. You were beginning to wonder if he's regretting asking you out. You're turning out to be an awful lot of trouble.

Now, he says, "How is it different?"

"Because you and her….you could be…"

"You going to get laid tonight, Sodapop?" Two-Bit asks and Evie mumbles, "eww".

Soda opens his mouth and shuts it again.

"Yeah, I doubt it too. Why don't you focus your energy there instead? Quit worrying about her and me." There is a cold, uncomfortable silence. Two-Bit feels obligated to lighten it, then, because he adds, "I think she can handle herself just fine. She is a reform school girl, you know."

You elbow him in the ribs and he laughs.

Steve pulls the car up to the curb in front of Bennies. You can see Marla waiting inside by the window, glowing as usual. You're relieved she's there. She'll divert Soda's attention- hell, everyone's attention. Maybe Soda will ease up a little and forget about Darry's list of rules.

The rules Darry laid out for your dating Two-Bit all fall under the umbrella of one big rule: you and Two-Bit aren't to be alone- ever, quite possibly for the rest of your lives. You have to go on group dates, preferably with your paranoid brother and his angelic Soc girlfriend. There will be no going Buck's, also for the rest of your lives. Two-Bit is not to be drinking. You are, of course, never to be driving. Straying from any of the rules will result in the immediate termination of your relationship. You will not leave the house again until you are dead.

Soda has been elected your guardian angel, a role that he is not happy about taking up. He suggested that perhaps Ponyboy- being younger and therefore more embarrassing- would make a better appendage. Darry shot that down. He didn't want Pony to learn anything from either you or Two-Bit.

Evie makes the noise in her nose when she sees Marla. You all get out of the car.

You and Two-Bit hang back and let the others walk ahead of you. Soda waits at the door, though. He holds it open.

"Please don't fuck this up," he says and you walk pass him.

"Yeah, you too," you say.

"I thought you were trying not to think about that," Two-Bit says to him and pushes you into Bennies. Soda lets the door slam. He goes to Marla, but turns back as he walks to glare at you.


	15. Chapter 15

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

You might as well be dating Evie and Marla.

Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit are playing pinball. It only takes the one to play, but the other two are necessary to watch and mock. Every now and then, Steve glances in the direction of the booth where you, Marla, and Evie sit. Satisfied that no biting or scratching is going on, he goes back to the game.

Two-Bit and Soda are caught up.

You had been hoping for more interaction, although not necessarily between you and Two-Bit. Steve and Evie are the longest-lasting couple you know. Although you don't enjoy spending time with either of them alone, you had wanted to observe them together for clues as to what a couple does when they're in it for the long haul.

It scares you that Two-Bit takes you so seriously. You don't understand what makes him feel that way. He's felt that way for a while, according to Ponyboy, and just never made a move. It scares you, too, that you're not sure you feel the same about him. You like him, sure. Maybe you love him as a friend or another brother. In your head, you'll admit that you like the attention. You wonder if the serious feelings are something that will come with time. If you don't have them now, does that mean you never will?

"Jesus, I asked you if you were going to leave it like that. Are you even listening?" Evie's voice registers in your ears. She's been trying to have a conversation with Marla. Dissatisfied with the way it's going, now she's trying to rope you in.

"What? Leave what like that?"

"Your hair. I'm sorry, but I just don't get it."

"Neither does Darry," you tell her.

"What are you looking at?" She squirms on her side of the booth to follow your eyes.

"Them."

"Why?"

You've been trying to watch the boys, Two-Bit in particular. Since he is supposed to be your boyfriend, you figure you ought to take stock. It ain't no lie that he does look good. The way he's protective of you both charms you and pisses you off. He's protective of Ponyboy like that, too, so you don't see it as a chauvinist thing. You like his red hair. You like his smile. He always has a look on his face that says he's been up to no good. Just as likely though, if he hasn't been stealing stuff, he's been chatting up a stranger or walking a thousand miles out of his way to help someone carry their groceries. He's like your father in that way.

You say to Evie, "why not? Aren't we supposed to be watching them?"

"No. I don't really give a damn what they're up to."

This confuses you. You file it away as clue #1 to Evie and Steve's longevity: they don't keep track of one another. Evie is confident that she'll be back in Steve's lap at the end of the evening. She doesn't need to know where he is in the meantime.

You look to Marla. She is watching Sodapop, but with a more dreamy expression on her face than you have for Two-Bit.

"What about you?" Evie says to Marla.

"What about me? I just like watching him in those jeans." She blushes then, and whispers, "Sorry," under breath to you.

You shrug.

"No, I mean. Are you allowed to wear make-up or what?"

Marla shakes her head. "I can, I guess, as long as it's not too much. I just don't like the way it feels. Why?"

"I was just thinking…since we seem to have some time on our hands…maybe we could try it out."

You smile at Evie. This is her way of making a genuine attempt to include Marla. You hope Marla recognizes the gesture.

Marla gets it. She asks Evie what she's thinking and leans forward across the table to survey the contents of Evie's well-stocked purse. You begin to tune them out again.

Outside of Bennies, movement on the street catches your eye. A car has pulled up behind Steve's. Three figures get out, pause to light up on the curb, and then come towards the door. When then step into the reddish glow of the neon Coke sign, you recognize them.

You poke at Marla to get up.

"This would be a good time," you say. "Ladies room."

Evie looks over your shoulder and nods. Marla looks back, doesn't understand, but slides out anyway. The three of you walk towards the back of Bennie's. You poke Two-Bit as you walk by and jerk your head towards the door.

Two-Bit sees Aronson, Art Baker, and Jimmy enter Bennie's. He nods to you in approval of your decision to flee to the restroom.

You hear Steve say to Evie, "you stay put now."

The three of you continue down the hall.

Once inside the ladies room, Marla asks, "What's going on?"

"Those guys that came in are just dicks," Evie tells her. "Come here."

Evie perches herself on the edge of the sink. She beckons Marla and directs her to close her eyes. Marla's having a hard time doing it. She keeps opening them and glancing towards the door.

"Don't worry about," you say. "It'll be just like lunch the other day. They'll just run their mouths, trade a few insults. Those guys just want to look tougher than they are. They can't wipe their asses without Tim telling them to."

Marla doesn't look convinced. Out in the pool hall, the sound of the pinball machine has stopped. You can hear Two-Bit's voice, but you can't make out what he's saying. A bottle or a glass drops and shatters. Marla flinches.

"We ought to…" she moves towards the door.

Evie pulls her back. "Ought to what? Steve said to stay put and I'm happy to oblige. This is their little drama. Don't have nothing to do with us unless we put ourselves in the middle of it."

Right on cue to prove Evie wrong, the bathroom door bumps against the frame. Someone has pushed against it from outside. The three of you look at the knob. It doesn't turn.

"Did you lock it?" Evie whispers to you.

You shake your head. You step to the door, turn the knob, and push. On the other side, someone pushes back and holds the door shut.

You push again, harder. The door opens just a couple of inches and then then slams shut against the frame again. You catch a brief glimpse of the wrist attached to the hand that's holding it closed.

"Hey," you shout and pound on the door. "Open it up, asshole."

Aronson's voice answers from the outside: "You got two choices, baby: Shut your mouth or I can wait on the inside with you."

The voices rise from out in the restaurant. They're all yelling now, but you can't hear them well enough through the door to know about what.

Evie glances behind her at a high window over the heater.

"No way," you tell her. "He'll hear us. We'd have to boost each other up. He'd grab whoever's last."

"I can hear you _now_," Aronson calls through the door. "Listen to her. I don't want to have to get grabby."

"Shit," Evie mumbles.

Marla looks terrified. She pulls out a paper towel and wets it. She begins to wipe the eyeliner away as if she can see better without it.

"What are they doing out there?" She whispers to you.

You shake your head. In truth, you have no idea. "Nothing. Just mouthing off. They ain't going to bust up Bennie's. I told you, they won't do anything if Tim didn't tell them."

"Who's Tim?" Marla squeaks. "And how do you know he didn't tell them to?"

Down the hall, a piece of furniture- most likely a chair- breaks. There is a sound of more broken glass. You can make out Bennie's voice telling them he's calling the cops. Marla's face goes white, like this is the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Evie says to you, "I think we should entertain the likelihood that maybe Tim told them to."

You shake your head, "he told me…"

"And you and Tim are so tight now? Everybody knows how you are about him, Marina. You think he doesn't? He can tell you anything with a spoonful of sugar. If you ask me, anything that comes out of Tim's mouth is bullshit."

You know she's probably right. Tim buttered you up with a couple of games of pool to get your guard down. He lied. It's just like Two-Bit said: the Shepard's will create trouble if there's none to be found.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Who's Tim?" Marla asks again.

Evie looks at the door and then says loudly, "Tim Shepard's a fuckin' downtown ingrate who couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag. He doesn't have a gang- he's got himself a day care. How long did it take him to explain to you how to hold a door closed, Aronson?"

"Jesus Christ! Don't…"Marla hisses at her.

A fist hits the door hard. Aronson says from his side, "Want to know what he told me to do if some mouthy little broad made me open it?"

You say to Evie, "Let me see your purse. You got a file?"

"This isn't prison, Curtis. There's nothing to file our way out of." She opens her purse anyway and produces the file.

You take it from her.

"Okay, we got to push on the door hard," you whisper. "And then we got to be ready to run."

Marla steps back. "What are you doing? If we just wait in here and keep quiet, he'll…"

You shake your head. "I want out of here. I want to know what's going on."

She glares at you. "You said you knew what was going on. You said they were just running their mouths."

"They probably are," you lie. Outside something else smashes. All of you flinch. "If we get out, though, it will confuse everything. It will catch them off guard and give Soda and them a chance to get the upper hand."

Marla's nostrils flare. She's mad at you. You lied-tried to placate her, but she's not stupid, just inexperienced. You patronized her.

You wince at her.

She says, "On three then? I still don't get what you think you're going to do."

You nod and lean into the corner of the door. Evie and Marla give themselves a few steps of momentum. Evie mouths a silent countdown.

On three, they slam as hard as they can against the door. It opens about six inches and exposes Aronson's arm once more. In the instant before he catches himself, you drive Evie's nail file into his wrist. He shrieks a string of curses and steps back. The three of you dash out into the hall.

You skid to a halt in a manner that's almost cartoonish. Steve is on the floor. He's sitting up, but clutching his side. He's bleeding. Soda and Two-Bit are standing on either side of him. Soda's got a broken bottle; Two-Bit's switchblade is open. Jimmy and Art stand facing them. Jimmy's knife is bloody.

Marla screams.

Steve tries to say, "What the fuck?" but only gets half of it out. He winces instead.

"Keys," Two-Bit says. "Where are the keys?"

"I got 'em," Steve says.

"Give 'em to Evie. Marina, the cops are coming. You got to get out of here."

You nod at him. Aronson stumbles up behind you. You move with Evie and Marla around behind Soda and Two-Bit. With some effort, Steve digs his keys out of his pocket and hands them to Evie. You back towards the door. Aronson is a safe distance with Two-Bit between you now, but you still don't want to turn your back on him.

You look up at Two-Bit as you pass him.

"It's been nice dating you," you tell him with a weak smile.

He grins and shakes his head. "What do you mean? I ain't drunk and you ain't driving. Your brother didn't say anything about not stabbing anyone. This is the best first date ever."

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh.

"Y'all go on home," he says. His tone is lower and serious once again. He nods towards Marla. "Take her home, and then y'all go back to Darry's."

Steve inhales hard from the floor. He has to gear up to speak: "And this time, try real hard to stay put."

Evie pushes the door open. You can hear sirens in the distance. The sound and the memory it brings makes you grit your teeth. You look at Two-Bit one more time. His face is stony, but he winks at you. His eyes are confident. In his mind, the situation is under control. Steve is still able to speak and the odds are evened up with Aronson also bleeding, so you guess maybe it is. You guess you trust his judgment.


	16. Chapter 16

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

Do you ever purposefully write yourself into a box that you're not sure how you're going to get out of?

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Evie drives about two blocks, turns a corner, and pulls over to the side of the street.

"I just got to think," she says and you nod.

You steal a glance at Marla. All three of you are sitting in the front seat with you in the middle. The radio is off. Until now, no one has said a word since you left Bennie's.

Two squad cars wail past. Without thinking about it, you turn your head away. They screech around the corner and disappear from view. You breathe again.

The passenger side door opens and the rush of cold air hits you like a slap in the face. Marla gets out of the car. Before either your or Evie can speak, she leans back in and tells Evie:

"I'm just going to use the payphone. I'm going to call my dad."

"You can't call you dad," Evie says. "Get back in here. They're going to be alright."

"I'm not going to be alright," Marla says.

You slide over to the edge of the seat and look up at her. For the first time since leaving Bennie's, she looks back at you.

You say, "Come on, Marla. It's too cold…"

"Marina, you stabbed just stabbed someone…"

"…with a nail file," Evie interrupts her. "She's hardly rumble material yet."

Marla doesn't answer Evie. She looks down at you. "I don't want any part of this. You guys are…Tell Soda not to call me."

She shuts the door and turns to walk down the block. There's a payphone on the corner outside an all-night diner. She can wait in the diner, you figure. She'll be warm in there and out of harm's way. You don't entertain any thoughts of going after her. You already agree with everything she said and left unsaid.

Evie sees it differently.

"Well, fuck her anyway," she says and puts the car back in drive.

You pull your feet up under you- something you'd never dare to do if Steve was in the car- and lay your head against the window. You wish Evie would turn the radio on, but you're too drained to do it yourself.

Evie leans past you to open the glove compartment. She fumbles in the dark. When she can't find what she's looking for, she pokes at you.

"See if Romeo-oh-my-Romeo left us any cigarettes."

You sit up slowly and look. You find a pack and push in the lighter. As long as you're moving, you turn on the radio, too. You don't recognize the song. You missed a lot of music while you were in the Baptist Home. You hand Evie a cigarette and toss Steve's pack on the dashboard.

"I don't want to go home," Evie says. "How busted are you going to be if we don't go home?"

You pass beneath a bank clock that hangs out of the corner of a building. It's only nine o'clock. Darry said to be home by ten.

"Don't matter," you tell Evie.

"Shit," she says and pauses to light her cigarette. "Don't be acting all mopey like that. I thought it was smart. What you did was smart, even if you did wreck my file. Let Marla think we're all homicidal maniacs. If you hadn't done it, we'd probably still be in that bathroom."

You watch the lights for a half a block. Your window is fogging up. The lights seem far away.

"Do you ever wish you could wake up and be someone else?" You ask her.

"Why would I do that? No. No, I don't. I like my life. I like my boyfriend. I like what I do on Saturday nights. Are you wishing you could wake up and be a princess like Marla?"

You shake your head. You don't know what you'd wish for. You close your eyes and try to imagine as different a life as you could possibly get. One face flashes in your memory: Ruby in the bus station. He offered you a ticket to Manhattan, Kansas. You should have taken it.

You don't have the strength to explain Ruby to Evie. Instead you ask her:

"Do you ever hear from Sandy?"

Evie smirks. "Now there's a different kind of life. You going to get Two-Bit to knock you up so you can give that whirl? Yeah, she writes me sometimes."

You want to ask, but you can't. Evie knows what you're thinking, though.

"Yeah, she asks about you." She pauses to go over the timeline in her head. "You were already gone when she took off, right? She asked once if I'd heard from you and she asked how you were when you came back."

"What'd you tell her?"

"I said you seemed alright. I told her you got Soda to come back to school. I figured she'd like that."

You frown. Part of you is still angry- Soda doesn't seem like he should be any of Sandy's business.

"When does she have the baby?"

"Not for a while," Evie says. "Not till after school's out. She doesn't ever talk about it. I wish she would."

You know why Sandy doesn't talk to Evie about it. You no longer know why you started this conversation.

"I should go home," you tell her.

She says, "We ought to go see them in jail."

"I'm sure it ain't visiting hours. Not like we can bail them. We're too young to get past the front desk there or at the hospital. I should go home."

Evie nods and doesn't say any more. She turns right at the next light and drives you back to your house. It's cold, but Darry is standing on the porch. He's leaning out over the railing, head down like maybe he's sick.

You tell Evie "thanks" and get out of the car. Darry's head pops up when he hears the door slam.

"They call?" You say from the gate. "What are you doing out here?"

"Yeah, they called. They're all sitting over night. Not like we have the dough to bail 'em. What happened?"

When you get close enough to see his face, you can see that he isn't angry. He's exhausted, just like you. His eyes are red and his shoulders seem to slump. You walk up the porch steps and stand in front of him. Then you step forward and wrap your arms around his middle. It takes a second for him to respond. When he hugs you back, you start to cry.

"I hate us," You hear yourself sobbing into his chest. "I hate us. I don't want to be this. I want to be someone else."

It's stupid stuff to say. It's hopeless. It's selfish, too. You can't imagine anyone who should want to be someone else more than Darry. He stuck with all of you, and he was the one with all the potential.

"Let's go inside, baby girl," he says. He leads you in. He directs you towards the couch and you sit down.

Darry stands over you, scratching his head. He's frowning, looking through the window at his truck, and thinking hard.

Finally he says, "If I leave, you going to take off?"

You shake your head.

"Where you going to go?"

"Just out. Just get some air, maybe check in on Stevie."

He's lying, but you don't push it. Darry's in a mood to take care of something. Whatever it is, you decide to let him have at it. You raise your hand and let it fall again. He nods and takes his jacket from the arm of the couch. He lets the screen door slam and leaves you alone with the TV.

The station ID is playing Perry Como and blinking. You stare at it for a while and then turn it off. The floor creaks. You look up to see Ponyboy has come out of his room. When he sees you look up, he comes out of the shadows and joins you on the couch.

"Is Steve okay?" He asks.

"I don't know. He could talk when I saw him last. Probably."

"Did Soda get arrested?"

"The cops were headed there, but I can't think of what they'd hold any of them on. It was all self-defense."

Pony grimaces and you remember how it should have been self-defense all along for him and Johnny and how well that played out.

"Bennie was there. He saw it."

"Yeah, I'm sure Bennie has a real positive relationship with law enforcement."

You shrug. "It's not like he's Buck Merrill."

Pony has to smile at that. You draw your feet up on to the couch. You lean against your little brother and start to feel how exhausted you really are. He lays his head on top of yours.

"So, did you have a lovely evening with Two-Bit?"

"I hardly had enough evening to know."

"Do you like him? Like a lot?"

Your pause is probably answer enough.

Your eyes are drooping. You say, "Pony, can I tell you something that you can't tell anyone else?"

"Sure. I'm going to fall asleep and forget it anyway."

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's a secret?"

"I mean- with Two-Bit, or since I got back…or before I left even. I just don't know what I'm doing."

He doesn't answer you for a long time. Just when you're sure he's asleep- and you're almost there yourself- he mumbles, "Two-Bit thinks you know what you're doing, 'Rina, and he thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. I wasn't supposed to tell you that. I'm not good with secrets, I guess."

You think to threaten him again that he'd better keep yours, but you slip into sleep instead.

* * *

><p>Voices in the front yard wake you up. You and Ponyboy both jump. At first, you're not sure where you are. The living room is dark. Outside, the sun is coming up. The truck is parked out front again. It's Soda and Two-Bit who are talking. You sit up and straighten your skirt as their feet pound across the porch.<p>

Soda is saying, "I don't know, but 'Rina said she had a job down there. We'll ask her. Maybe whatever we got put together."

The screen door flies open and slams behind them both. You think fleetingly that you ought to run to Two-Bit and kiss him or embrace him or something. The scene is all wrong, though. Soda and Two-Bit are not who you were expecting to see.

"Where's Darry?" You ask.

"Darry's in jail," Soda says.

Two-Bit interrupts him: "He beat the hell out of Shepard. Just pounded his ass. Some asshole at Buck's called the cops…"

"Probably Buck himself- he's just a fucking little girl," this time Soda interrupts Two-Bit. "You got any money left from Oklahoma City, Marina? We got to get him out."

"I don't know how much," you say, but you're up. You push past Two-Bit and run towards your room. You jerk your dresser drawer open. You could swear it weighs more with Sandy's damned letter hidden in there. Deep in the back, beneath all of your panties and your tights, is a coin purse that used to be your mother's. You pull it out and open it without closing the drawer.

You hear Two-Bit exhale. He's standing in the doorway. You shove the dresser drawer shut, not sure if it's the letter or your underwear you're hiding from him.

"How much is it?" You ask him.

"Not sure. I don't think they've charged him yet. Don't know if it's assault or attempted murder."

Your arms drop to your sides. Something drops out of the coin purse and hits the floor, but you don't look to see what it is.

"What?" You say. "How bad did he beat him?"

"Bad. He wouldn't even talk to us- we were just getting out when they brought him in. Cops told Soda to get him a lawyer. Shit, maybe you ought to save your money for a lawyer. "

"Did people see it happen?"

"Only everyone at Buck's."

You look down at the floor. The roll of bills from the coin purse is laying at your feet. You stoop to pick it up. You don't count it out, though.

"I suppose we should ask Darry what he wants us to do," you say to Two-Bit. "Will they let us visit? If we're minors?"

"I ain't a minor," he says. "I'll go see him."

Two-Bit turns towards the door, but you reach for his sleeve and pull him back.

"Two-Bit, we're all minors…"

He insists, "I'm almost nineteen."

"No, us. Me, Soda, and Ponyboy. They're going to call social services."

"Then you'd better give me the money and let me bail him. Maybe if he's out and back in the house, they'll let it go."

You hand him your money without counting it out. You follow him out in to the living room. All this time, he and you haven't touched expect for you tugging on his sleeve.

"Come on," Two-Bit says to Soda, who is sitting on the arm of the couch next to Ponyboy. "Take me back down there and I'll spring him."

"I want to go," Pony says. He sounds like a little kid. He's excited and scared at the same time.

"You two stay here," Soda says, standing up.

Two-Bit turns back half-way across the porch and says to you, "_You_ stay here."

When you roll your eyes, he says, "please."


	17. Chapter 17

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders. I only own the following nonsense.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

You sit on the couch next to Ponyboy, both of you silent for a long time. You try to think through the situation. Over and over find yourself looking around for Darry. He's always there. None of you makes a move without him. When you've tried, it's always something stupid. Darry is the only one of you who ever knows the smart thing to do.

Habit tells you to get up and make breakfast. You aren't hungry. You wonder aloud about it to Ponyboy.

"I guess," he says.

He follows you into the kitchen. You were hoping to not have his help. You wanted to think by yourself for just a little while.

"Are they going to take us?" He asks. "Are they going to split us up?"

You exhale heavily and avoid his eyes. He's leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and the dining room. He's watching your every move. You get the eggs out of the refrigerator and the bread out of the cupboard.

"We don't know nothing yet," you tell him.

"Soda told me what happened. He said they might charge him with attempted murder. Even if it's assault, it's a felony. Dang, you'd think beating up Tim Shepard would be considered a public service."

You can't help but smirk. You break the eggs into a bowl.

"Over-easy," Pony says.

"Scrambled. I can't do over-easy. You know that." He knows that. He always has to whine about it. You break two more eggs. "Go out and see if the milk's here."

Pony goes out on the back porch. You hear him open the door and then open the milk bin. He brings the milk back to you, and tells you he's going back out to have a cigarette.

"It's a nice morning," he tells you. "Current situation not-withstanding."

"By all means, then, smoke."

You just want him out of your hair for a minute or two. You need to think. Ponyboy is a constant unbridled stream of questions.

You pour a little milk in with the eggs and stir. Behind you on the stove, you can smell the skillet heating up. Something is stuck in the burner, and it's starting to smoke. You pick up a fork from the sink and turn to fish the smoking thing out. Before you can do it, the phone rings.

You curse. You can't have silence for one goddamned second, it seems.

You pick it up.

"Yeah?"

"Let me talk to Darrel."

You were expecting a social worker. Your family's assigned social worker is a woman. This is a male voice, but it doesn't sound professional or even quite grown-up.

"He's not here right now. May I take a message?" Even still, you turn on your best phone etiquette.

There is a low sound on the other end- not quite a laugh, but the caller is amused.

"No, you may not take a message. Mary? Marjorie? Ah shit…what is it?"

"Marina." You know the voice now, and you get why the speaker sounds like he's been hung out to dry.

"Yeah, that's it," he says, like he was just quizzing you. "This is Tim Shepard."

"I know."

"Well, if you knew…what's the matter, kid? Ain't you happy to hear I'm alive and well?"

"You don't sound so well, and- no." You stop there. You should be furious with him, but you're confused instead. You feel betrayed, instead, and stupid.

He doesn't question your response. Instead, he asks, "Where's the big guy? Where's Darrel?"

"You know where the fuck Darry is. He's in jail. He's in jail because of you." You look around to make sure that Pony is still on the porch and can't hear. "We're all going to get split up because of you."

"What the fuck? What did I do?" He must be trying to sit up. You can hear the pain in his voice.

"You know what you did."

"No, honey, clearly I don't. If I did anything at all- which I didn't- the memory of it has been erased by the repeated blows to the head I got courtesy of that fucker Hank Aronson."

"What?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? Your brother beat me up or something? You're brother's my man. Him and me got an understanding."

"Yes, we thought he beat you up, Tim, and the cops sure as hell do. Darry's in jail."

The back door slams. You've raised your voice enough to bring Ponyboy in from the porch. He's frowning at you now and mouthing, "Who is it?"

You shake your head at him. You don't know whether you should believe Tim, but you want to. In Darry's absence, he seems like the next most-sensible authority figure. You take a deep breath, just long enough to think about how scary _that_ is, and ask him:

"Do you remember what happened, Tim? Do remember who started it? Was Darry even there? You got to tell the cops."

"Hold on, little girl…"

"I'm not a little girl. It's just me and Ponyboy here, so I'm in charge…"

Ponyboy snorts at that. So does Tim.

"Well, I'm still in charge on this end, little Miss Marina," Tim says. "And I need you to fill in some gaps for me. So, I take it Aronson and Baker and Company are still giving y'all some trouble?"

You stamp your foot even though the gesture is lost on Tim.

"No, Tim, we don't have time to screw around. I know there's a cop out in the hall watching you…"

He sounds surprised and maybe a little impressed. "How'd you know that?"

"Because you probably have warrants. Now that they have you, they want to make sure you don't wander away."

"Shit, no chance of that anytime soon. Alright, I'll tell the cop, but will you tell me one thing first?"

"Alright."

"Why'd they pick up Darry?"

You really aren't sure. Your best guess is that Darry was on his way down to Buck's to throttle Tim, but Aronson got there first. Knowing Darry and his thinly-veiled bleeding heart, he saw Tim either pummeled or getting there and stepped in to help him. Aronson must've left him holding the bag.

"Aronson beat you up and then called the cops on Darry. Darry thought you sent them after us earlier tonight. They stabbed Steve Randle."

"Shit, why would Darry think that? Jesus, does no one around here listen to me anymore?"

You can't help but smile when he says it. Tim Shepard's grip on his empire is slipping and his reaction to it is bewilderment. It makes you miss Dally. Dally would have been merciless in his mockery.

"As long as that cop listens to you, Tim. That's all that matters to me."

"Yeah, yeah. Alright. Is Stevie still here?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"I should go have a talk with…" He sucks in air. You hear pillows crumple as he drops back again. "Maybe I should see if he'll come talk to me."

"Just talk to the cop."

"Yes, ma'am. Talking to the cop. Right away. Hey, I ain't seen 'em, so I'm guessing Aronson and crew are AWOL, right? You and the little man…"

"I know- we stay inside. Two-Bit and Soda are way ahead of you."

Tim cackles on his end of the line. "Never in my life did I ever think I'd hear someone say that."

You hang up on Tim without saying goodbye. Ponyboy is staring at you, waiting.

"As long as Tim Shepard moves his ass and talk to the cops before the social workers come on shift, everything's going to be fine," You tell him.

"That's a lot of variables and too much relying on Tim Shepard if you ask me. Eggs done?"

You shrug and then shake your head. Maybe Ponyboy had to grow up too fast, but you like the style he's growing in to. He's becoming easy-going like Soda, but sarcastic like Darry. He used to just mouth off a lot, but now he's got some experience and has something to say.

"So, we're holding down the fort, I take it?" He asks.

"I guess so."

"I hate holding down the fort."

"Me too."

"Want to go out for breakfast?"

Two-Bit and Tim's directive doesn't even register among your reasons.

You say, "I gave Two-Bit all of my money."

"Dang, you might as well just marry him," he replies. He strolls past you, grinning, into the living room. You hear the TV come on and the couch creak under his weight. Then you hear a knock at the door. It opens before Pony gets up off the couch.

You hear him say "hey" just as it occurs to you that the social workers never just walk in. There is the ugly sound of a fist against flesh and a body hitting the coffee table and then the floor. Footsteps cross the living room. You can hear agitated fingers snapping.

"Sure smells good in here. Got any coffee on, little girl? I could use some coffee. It's been a hell of a long night."

It's Aronson's voice. You look behind you. You can see Art Baker through the kitchen window. He's sitting on the fender of the dead Mercury in your back yard. He's smoking a cigarette and staring at the sky. He's watching something flying through the air far above him. You decide to roll the dice on his moment of distraction.

You run for the kitchen door.


	18. Chapter 18

SE Hinton owns it.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Ponyboy is the runner in the family, but you've played your share of church tournament basketball. Pony's faster, but you know how to duck and dodge.

Art Baker snaps to life when Aronson yells from the kitchen. He curses you and takes a swipe at your arm. You dart around him towards the alley.

You don't think about where you're going. You just want to get away from the shouting and cursing behind you. It must be habit that makes you run to the right at the mouth of the alley and down the next street towards the Mathews' house.

Aronson and Baker quit following you. They must be going back after Ponyboy, and the thought makes you run harder until you hit the porch of Two-Bit's house. There is only one step, but it's half-sunk into the ground and uneven. You trip and slide across the porch. The noise brings Colleen to the door in her robe.

"Baby, what's wrong?" She says. She kneels to pull you back on your feet. "Where's Keith? He's better not have had you out all night."

"No, ma'am." You're heaving trying to catch your breath. Your voice is hoarse. "He's gone to jail."

Her eyes open wide. "Damnit, what'd he do to you?"

"No, ma'am. He's not in jail. He's gone after Darry."

This is too much for Colleen to fathom. She places her hands on your cheeks to stop you from bouncing up and down.

You tell her, "Pony's alone at the house. These guys broke in. They're beating on him…"

"What? Come on," she says. She tries to pull you inside. "We'll call the police."

You jerk away from her.

"No, we got to go. We got to help Pony."

"Honey, slow down. Who are these guys?"

"They're from Tim's…" But you're not sure they are. You're still not sure if you trust Tim, but you can't quite believe that Aronson and Baker are taking direction from him either. You tell Colleen, "They're from school."

"Well, shit," she says. "Let me get my coat."

She turns back into the house. She shouts to Darla that she'll be right back. You stand there shaking your head without knowing what you're disagreeing with. She walks past you, keys in hand, with her coat on over her robe.

"Get in the car," she tells you. When you don't immediately follow, she turns back and asks, "Damnit…did he fix it, or are we going to have to roll it back?"

"Soda fixed it, ma'am. No, no, you can't… these are awful guys."

"They're school boys. You said they hurt Ponyboy." She's at the driver's side door now. She stops and looks at you, and she looks like she might be just as mad at you as with the guys who busted into your house. "I'm not taking any more shit from school kids. Any of you. You all run wild. To me, you're all just a bunch of kids. Get in the car."

You obey. Miracle of miracles, the car starts and actually moves forward when she puts it in drive.

"You didn't tell me the other day that Keith was your date," she says.

You don't have an answer for her. Your dating Two-Bit is so far from your mind right now, you can't think of anything to say about it.

"I suppose I should have seen that coming," she continues. "I hate to say it, my girl, but my first inclination would've been to tell you 'no'. Damnit, I'm so sick of this. All these boys are too damned wild, and they'll take you straight down with them. I hate to say it about my own son, but find yourself a nice boy, Marina. Boys around here will do nothing but knock you up and leave you alone while they go drinking and fooling around…if they don't all get themselves killed in Vietnam first. Shit…I keep forgetting to ask him if he even registered. See what I mean? He's almost nineteen and he probably forgot to register for the draft. One way or another, that boy's going to end up in jail."

You're barely paying attention to her. You can see your house up the street. The gate is open and so is the front door. You don't know if Aronson and Baker drove or not. You don't remember hearing a car, but you weren't listening for one either.

Colleen is still grumbling at you as she pulls up to curb.

"I love him. I love him with all my heart, my girl, but he's just like his father. I loved him with all my heart and look where it got me. Promise me, Marina, you'll find yourself a nice boy. Find yourself a boy who will take you out of this."

You promise her without really hearing what you're promising. You're out of the car before the words leave your lips. Colleen gets out and pushes past you before you can get through the gate.

"Ponyboy?" She calls out.

She hurries up the walk. You scan the yard for something to use as a weapon. Darry's been on a cleaning jag lately, and the yard is fairly clean. Soda left a wrench lying by the porch steps, though. You pick it up and follow Colleen.

She sees him first and runs across the living room to him. Ponyboy is still on the floor. He's conscious. Colleen helps him sit up. His lip is bleeding. He clutches his ribs. You can't tell if it's from when Aronson first came in, or if he came back for more.

"They still here?" You ask him.

He shakes his head. "I don't think so. They both took off after you."

"Can you stand up, baby?" Colleen asks him. "Let's get you on to the couch. Marina, help me here."

The two of you help Ponyboy to his feet. You lower him to the couch and Colleen kneels down beside him.

"Call the police, Marina," she says over your shoulder.

Ponyboy's eyes meet yours. They're full of fear.

"We can't call the cops, ma'am. They'll split us up. They might do it already, with Darry going to jail."

She helps Ponyboy take off his t-shirt. His ribs are bruised, already turning purple.

"Tell me now, why is Darrel in jail?"

"They thought he beat up Tim Shepard, but he didn't. It was the guys who broke in, but someone at Buck's called the cops and said it was Darry."

"And you know this how?"

"Because Tim called here and told me."

Colleen stands up and looks around the room. "Get me some ice, and tell me what the hell Darrel was doing at Buck's."

You go to the kitchen for ice. You can hear Ponyboy telling her in his soft voice how you and the rest of them got jumped on your date. When you return with ice wrapped in a towel, Colleen takes it without looking at you.

"You see what I mean, Marina?" She says. "Remember what you promised me. That's the reason you promised, right there."

Ponyboy looks at you, confused. You shake your head at him.

Outside you hear a car door slam. You look past Ponyboy through the window. It's the truck. Darry, Soda, and Two-Bit are all jammed together in the cab. Soda has been driving. When they get out of the truck, they all look exhausted.

"That them?" Colleen asks you. When you whisper 'yes, ma'am' she tells you to hold the ice for Ponyboy. She stands up and goes to greet Darry and the rest in the yard.

"I want to talk to you, Darrel," you hear her say as she goes through the door.

"What's wrong?" Darry replies.

"You're asking me what's wrong?" She's yelling at him like he's a kid. "What the hell isn't wrong here?"

Two-Bit's voice is quiet, but you can make it out when he says, "Take is easy, Mama."

"I'll take it easy when things around here start going easier. Sodapop Curtis, get your ass in that house and help your sister. Keith, wait for me in the car. I want to talk to Darry."

You've never heard Colleen order Two-Bit to do anything. Your head might've exploded if he'd actually listened to her.

"What happened to Marina?" He asks.

There are footsteps on the porch. Soda calls out to you and Ponyboy. He bursts through the screen with Two-Bit right behind them.

"Holy shit," Soda says when he sees Ponyboy.

"It wasn't Tim," You say and then regret it. Two-Bit glares at you like you're stupid. Soda pushes past you to kneel beside Ponyboy.

"Aronson just busted in here," Ponyboy tells him. "We fell asleep on the couch, her and me. When we got up to make breakfast, he just came right through the door. She ran to get your mom. Was the other one in the backyard, 'Rina?"

You nod. You glare back at Two-Bit. He looks away for a second, shakes his head, and relents. He reaches out for your arm and pulls you to him, enveloping you in a bear hug. You wrap your arms around his ribcage and wait for the feeling of wanting to cry. It doesn't come. You lay your forehead against his chest.

Two-Bit drops his head to whisper in your ear, "I'm never leaving you again. I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have left you here alone."

"Should've seen it coming," Soda says to no one in particular. He's fussing with Ponyboy, checking out all the injuries Colleen just finished with. "Have to admit, it was a pretty good set-up. Didn't think them guys were that sharp. If I hadn't just seen him with my own eyes, I'd think the only one of them sharp enough to pull it off was Tim."

You twist to free yourself from Two-Bit.

"You went to the hospital?"

"No, the jail, dumbie. Shit, we got to get to the hospital and see Randal…"

You interrupt him: "Tim called me from the hospital, _dumbie_. He said he was in the hospital still. He sounded like he was beat real bad."

"Well, maybe he was there once. He got beat up alright, but he's in County now. They were hauling him in just as we were getting there to spring Darry. That's why they let Darry go- because Tim wasn't hurt that bad."

"Yeah," Two-Bit says. He reaches in his jeans pocket and hands back your money. "Your brother's a cheap date. We didn't even have to bail him."

"Wait-so Tim fucked us," Ponyboy says.

You all turn to him in awe. You've never heard him use that word before.

The screen door opens. Darry holds it for Colleen and then comes in behind her. Both of their faces are taunt. Their lips are tight and their eyes avoid everyone. You take a step back. Two-Bit puts his hand on your shoulder and pulls you to him again. Colleen shoots you- or him- a look that makes your heart seize in your chest.

"All of you sit down," she says quietly. She doesn't tell Two-Bit to take his hands off of you, like you are expecting. She doesn't say a word about it when he sits down on the sofa, and you sit down next to him. He takes your hand in his and squeezes. Colleen doesn't say a word about it. She doesn't look at you. She knows you've already forgotten your promise.

Even Darry sits down when she says to, though. Soda drags a chair in from the dining room for Colleen, and then he kicks the pieces of the coffee table out of the way to make a space for himself on the floor.

"Tim Shepard," Colleen says. "I know that name. If you all aren't beating on each other, you're partying with him out at that road house by the rodeo grounds. Do I have the right one, Keith?"

Two-Bit nods.

"I don't understand you kids. I don't understand this at all, and you'd think I would by now since all your fathers were exactly the same way. So explain it to me. Explain to me what is so damned important that you all didn't learn your lesson after Johnny and Dallas died? You tell me what's going on, and then I'm going to tell you- again- that it's going to stop. We're going to sit here and hash it out until we find a way."

You hear Darry sigh heavily from the chair. It feels strange to see Darry act like he's in trouble. Now the tears begin to work their way up from your throat. You remember this- it was more than a year ago the last time it happened, the last time Darry got caught raising hell and your father had to set him right. It's been over a year since any adult was around to do that. There have been times you wished for it, how you'd give anything in the world to have your parents back to put everything in line.

Right now, though, you can't see how Colleen is going to manage it. This is too big. It's too convoluted. Things have gone too far, and- so far as you can see- the only one who can fix it is the one who insists he didn't start it.

You bite back your tears.

"I need to use the bathroom," you tell Colleen. "Pony, you need some aspirin?"

He nods. "And a glass of water."

"Yeah," you tell him. "I'll bring it."

You free yourself from Two-Bit's grip and step over Sodapop into the dining room. You avoid looking at either Darry or Colleen.

In the bathroom, you wiggle out of your tights. They're shot to hell- full of holes from sliding across the Mathews' porch. You pull another pair down from the curtain rod in the bathroom. You ball them up and squeeze them to make sure they're dry. You put them in your pocket and flush the toilet. The cold pipes shudder and make enough noise for you to open the bathroom window and slip away before anyone knows you're gone.


	19. Chapter 19

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and the Curtis family minus their sister, who I made up to piss people off.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Your bare legs burn in the cold air, and then they start to go numb. By the time you're a block from your house, you're already rethinking your plan to escape. Beyond escaping, there was no plan anyway. You just needed to get out and move to get it straight in your head.

You get to the vacant lot, where the boys have their rumbles, and think about cutting across. There's still a light blanket of snow on the ground. You decide to go around rather than leave tracks. You know they'll be coming. For that matter, you know they'll catch up, but you'd like to prolong it until you get your thoughts organized.

No such luck. You're barely past the house where Johnny's parents use to live- they split up and moved out not long after he died and the house sits empty- when you hear footsteps on the pavement.

"Hold up! Wait, 'Rina. Don't run."

It's Sodapop. When you turn to face him and don't run away, he jogs to catch up to you.

"Where's the rest of them?" You ask.

"Where'd you think, genius? Cursing the God that made 'em and out looking for you. I'm supposed to be looking too."

You raise an eyebrow at him. It's too cold to actually turn and look at him full-on.

"Well, you get your gold star for the day. What do you mean 'supposed to be looking'?"

He grins. "I knew where you was headed. I ain't going to haul you back. Thought maybe you'd let me join you. Jesus, ain't you cold?"

He nods towards your bare legs. You pull your tights out of your pocket. Soda looks around. He walks over to a car parked at the curb and tests the handle on the passenger side door. It opens. He stands by the door and looks away while you slip inside the car and put your tights on.

"So what do you figure?" He asks.

"About what?"

"About the commies in Cuba, dumbie. What do you think about Shepard?"

"Damned if I can tell. Maybe the commies from Cuba got to him. Everyone's right, Soda. I like to think I can read him, but I used to have such a crush on him. Maybe he's just got the wool pulled over my eyes."

You stand up and tug your skirt back into place. Soda shuts the car door and the two of you are on your way again.

"You still got your eye on him?" Soda asks. Soda is the only person to whom your crush on Tim Shepard- while perhaps not an appetizing thought- seems like it could be within the realm of logic.

You shrug as best you can with your hands deep in your cardigan pockets.

"I don't know. Two-Bit's right when he says they'll start trouble just to have something going on. I'm starting to think maybe I just like the excitement. He's sure good to look at, though."

"Tim? That I do not get. I guess he's a little tall for me."

Soda bumps into you and you bump back.

"So, are we looking for Tim?" He asks.

"I'm not even sure. I just had to get out of there to think. Colleen's been reading me the riot act. She thinks it's a bad idea- me being with Two-Bit."

"I can't say I disagree there."

"Yes, I know. Because it creeps you out…" You pause to grin at him and make sure you really have his attention. "…the thought of him and me…touching…and…"

"God, enough! Yeah, that give me the creeps, but that would be you with any guy. I mean, you're my little sister. It just ain't supposed to happen."

This makes you laugh out loud. Both of you stop for a second and look around to make sure it hasn't drawn any attention.

"It's going to happen eventually, Soda."

"Couldn't you just be married first- to someone else- and maybe in your thirties?"

You don't reply. Eventually this conversation is going to work its way around to Soda, and then to Soda and Sandy. You'd like to derail it before it gets there. Soda knows it, too, and he doesn't attempt to continue.

"You think Tim's still at the jail?" You ask him.

"Doubt it. What time is it? Unless he's got other charges, I'd bet someone's cut him loose by now."

"What'd they even haul him in on?"

Soda shakes his head. "Don't know. I was just happy to get Darry back at that point. I never asked."

"Did they charge Darry?"

"Yeah, but with something dumb like disturbing the peace."

"That _is_ dumb," You say, knowing that Soda sat overnight on the same charge once. "You think the Social Worker will be paying us a visit?"

"Couldn't tell you. He wasn't even in for two hours. The paper work will take longer than that. By the time it gets around to social services, maybe the whole thing will have blown over. Plus, I think Two-Bit's mom has a plan to intervene…"

"Like how?"

"She was saying you ought to be spending more time with her. She thinks you needed an adult female influence and maybe you should stay over there for a while."

"How is that going to keep me away from Two-Bit?" You ask with a smirk.

"She was talking about a trade," Soda says. "Two-Bit would stay with us."

"Lucky you."

Soda stops. You turn to face him. He looks confused.

"You know, I don't get it, 'Rina. I mean, I ain't exactly turning cartwheels about you and Two-Bit being together, but you don't even act like you like him. If you ain't into him, you ought to break it off. He'll be pretty tore up, but do it before it goes any further."

"I guess I just don't know yet. He's always been like another brother to me. It never occurred to me to think about him like this. I guess I'm still getting used to it."

Soda starts moving again. He grumbles as he walks past you, "Well, just don't go doing nothing stupid to try and prove it to yourself."

You roll your eyes.

"Is there a bus stop near here?" You ask. "I'm tired of walking. Should we check the jail first?"

"I got some change. We could find a payphone and call the jail. I don't know where he lives."

"I think he lives at Buck's."

Soda mumbles "great" and stops to look around him.

"Maybe we should check in on Steve," he offers. "Steve's smart and he stays over at Buck's now and then. He'll know what to do."

"We know what to do. We just don't know where Tim is."

Soda shakes his head. "We should go see Steve."

You don't want to go see Steve. Steve doesn't think girls can do anything. How Evie tolerates him is beyond you. Steve is just as likely to rat you out to Darry as he is to do anything helpful. Soda, however, seems determined now. He spots a bus stop down the street and taps your arm as he starts to hurry towards it.

When you get to the bench, you sit down. Soda scans the bus schedule.

"Soda?" You ask, looking down at your shoes. "Does Two-Bit think it's going to go further?"

Soda looks harder at the bus schedule.

"Don't know. He doesn't really talk to me about you. I mean, he did before…told me I ought to hook you two up and got pissed when I wouldn't."

"You creep. When was this?""

"Shit, a while ago. Before you went away. He's liked you forever." Soda turns around now. He hooks his fingers in his belt loops. He looks at you, but he won't sit down. "Why?"

"I don't know. Just everyone seems to expect it."

"Yeah, I suppose he does. And- if you want to keep him around- eventually, it will happen. I guess you got to think real hard about how much you want to keep him around. If it ain't that important to you, don't."

You frown. It's a terrible thing to say, you think, but you know it's hardly Soda's personal philosophy. It's just the way things work. To hear Soda tell it, Two-Bit's already spent years being patient. That patience will only last so long now.

"You know what I miss about Dally?" You say.

"Do I want to know?" Soda asks.

"That's it exactly. Everybody assumed there was something going on with us, but there wasn't. We just used to horse around like we did when we were kids. Cut school, climb stuff, raise Cain…"

"…steal cars…"

"Yeah, but…he never expected anything more. I mean, he'd use some colorful language, but he never made a move on me. Say what you want about him, but Dally was a real gentleman with me."

"A real gentleman with whom you stole cars," Soda reminds you again.

"You're missing the point."

"No, I get it. Dally was there when Two-Bit was badgering me to set him up with you. He told Two-Bit you were too good. They almost got in a fight. He was a gentleman where you were concerned, I guess. It's not like he was jealous. He didn't want you for himself. He just thought you were better than Two-Bit."

"You know, I don't get that," you say as the bus pulls up. "What's so special about me? Why am I too good for Two-Bit? He's our friend. He'd do anything for us, and here we all are talking about him like he's some kind of deviant."

Soda follows you on to the bus and pays your fare. When you get to your seats, he tells you, "It's just like it was with Dally except Dally knew it too. You're too good for that. Dally was your friend because he wanted you to have something better."

"But what is that? Mom made out alright, didn't she? Dad never waltzed her out of the old neighborhood, but he was good to her."

Soda sighs.

He scowls at the city going by outside the bus window. He does it for a long time. Finally, when he knows he isn't going to be able to get the words right, he gives in and says:

"I can't explain it. When I look into the future…or- not like I have a crystal ball- but when I think about the future, I don't see anything for me. I don't see anything changing. It's almost like I don't exist. When I look at you and Pony, though, you're different. You're not here. You're having amazing lives."

"Doing what? Because I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I'm not good at anything. At least you're good with cars."

He shakes his head. "That's bullshit, Marina. You're good at everything you touch. You don't think like anybody else I know. Why do you think I'm following you and not making you go home?"

You look up at him and smile. You wish you could have a boyfriend as nice to you as Sodapop. Then you remember Ponyboy saying that Two-Bit thinks everything that you say is brilliant, and you think maybe you do.

"Here we be," Soda says. He bumps your knee with his. The hospital looms down the block. He reaches up and pulls the bell.

"You got any more money for coffee?"

"I think so. Maybe we should stop and get something for Steve."

You smirk. "Like an offering?"

"Like a present. He's our friend."

You rarely think of Steve as being your friend. He's Soda's friend. He respects Darry and he watches out for Ponyboy. When Soda says it, though, you find yourself believing it. Maybe Steve really will help you. Maybe he'll trust this awesome intuition Soda seems to think you possess. Maybe Steve will know where to find Tim Shepard.


	20. Chapter 20

Hooray for SE Hinton for she doth own it.

**Hey, Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

It's Sunday morning, and the hospital gift shop is closed. The café is open, though. Your money that Two-Bit returned is still tucked in the pocket of your blouse. You buy a cup of coffee for you and Soda and get a cookie for Steve. You don't even know if Steve likes cookies, but this one is huge. You figure if he doesn't like them, at least he might be impressed with its size.

You and Soda pass the coffee back and forth between you in the elevator. At the nurse's station, you get Steve's room number. The nurse tells you the stab wound isn't deep. He needed stiches, but the knife didn't hit any major organs. They'd like to keep him another night to make sure an infection doesn't start.

Steve disagrees. When you get to his room, he's sitting on the edge of the bed pulling his jeans on. He hasn't gotten to his shirt and jacket yet. Seeing him like this, you suspect you know why Evie puts up with him after all. Steve is all muscle, and there are more tattoos than just the one on his bicep. You don't know what it is about tattoos- even bad ones like Tim's- that turn your head. Your father had one that you know of. He got it in the Navy.

"Well, as I live and breathe," Steve says, grinning when he sees Soda.

Soda claps his hand into Steve's. Steve peeks around Soda at you, and you hand him the cookie.

"Jesus," Steve says. "Did they bake this with radiation? What kind of deviltry are the Curtis' up to this morning?"

"Might ask you the same," Soda says, gesturing to Steve's street clothes.

Steve grins at him. "Yeah, I just got the strangest phone call. How is it that you two manage to be both crazy and still totally predictable? Just got off the phone with Darry. He said you'd probably stop by, and if you did, I was to keep you here."

"So, you're obviously going to heed those instructions and stay in your bed and chat until he comes for us?"

"Yeah, obviously," Steve says. "I got to get out of here. I don't give a damn where y'all think you're going. If it's out of here, I'm going with you. What ever happened to my car?"

You tell him, "Evie drove it home. I think to her place, not yours."

"Did she drive Marla home?" Soda asks.

You had forgotten about Marla. You look down at the floor and tell him, "No. She ditched. She went in to some diner and called her dad."

Soda nods. Steve is unfazed. He pulls his t-shirt over his head. The nurses have washed it, but there's still a stain and a hole where the Jimmy's switchblade went in.

"Well, it's that just lovely," he mumbles. "Damn good thing he didn't get my jacket. I'da had to kill him. 'Rina, toss me my jacket."

You reach behind you and take his jacket off the chair in the corner. You give it to him.

He nods to you. "Now, go on out to the nurse's station and ask where the ladies room is. Me and Soda'll cut out. Meet us down by the loading dock."

You frown at him.

He says, "Don't worry. We ain't going to leave you. We might need your feminine wiles to get us out of whatever we're about to get ourselves into."

Soda doesn't like the sound of that at all, but you dart out the door before he can protest. You play dumb with the nurse, like you've never been in the hospital before. You make her take her time giving you explicit instructions on how to get to the restroom.

Steve and Soda are waiting at the loading bay when you get off the elevator. Steve already has a cigarette between his lips. They've saved you part of the cookie.

"We got to find us a car," Steve mumbles.

Soda asks him, "Where are we going?"

"I thought we were going to find that fucker Shepard. Where were you guys going? To church?"

"Only if Shepard's in church," You tell him.

"That'll be the goddamned day," Steve replies. "Where do you think he's holed up?"

Soda tells him, "He told Marina he was calling from the hospital, but he got hauled into the jail while we were there. I'd guess he called Marina from the jail."

"Why's he calling you anyway?" Steve asks, scowling.

You shrug. "He was calling for Darry. Said he needed to talk to him. He played it like he was hurt real bad, though, and at the hospital."

"It doesn't make any sense," Soda says.

"It makes all the sense in the world if you're Shepard," says Steve. "He's losing his grip. He may not have been behind Aronson and those fuckers coming after us, but he's up to something. He's probably playing us all- them too. There ain't much left to his gang but him and Curly."

Soda is nodding.

"When's Curly out?" He asks.

"February," you tell him. "About three weeks. I still don't get it. So Tim's plan is to piss off everyone in creation as he goes down in flames? That don't seem right."

"Fucking Shepard ain't right," Steve says. "How do you think Dally could stand him? Whatever the case, I'd bet my eye teeth he's a Buck's. And- Christ- but it's too cold for this shit. We need a car. You see any prospects, Curtis?"

Soda stops and looks around. He motions towards a nearly full church parking lot across the street.

"Wasn't asking you," Steve says, grinning at him as he starts to trot out into the four-lane. "I was talking to her. She's the big-time car thief in the family."

* * *

><p>Like Dally once did, Steve plays it safe when stealing a car. He picks an older model Ford with some rust on the rear fenders. The heat barely works, but the owner has left a pack of cigarettes in the front seat. The three of you sit up front together. You ride in silence.<p>

Steve decides to ditch the car a couple of blocks from Buck's. Soda pockets the cigarettes and you start walking. You almost don't notice Two-Bit's car parked across the street. Steve does, and he holds his arm out to stop you. It's too late, though. Two-Bit has spotted you, and he's up and out of his Plymouth.

"Run?" Soda asks.

"From Mathews?" Steve says. "It's Mathews. If we're doing something batshit stupid, you think he's going to miss out on that?"

"Maybe not, but he's going to lock me in his trunk first," you mumble.

Steve nods. "Can't say I'd blame him."

"I thought you needed my feminine wiles."

"If we need them, we'll just come back and get you out of the trunk."

"You're an asshole, Steve."

Soda snaps his fingers to shut you both up. Two-Bit is close enough to you now to speak without shouting and drawing attention.

"Well, well now," he says. You exchange glances with Sodapop. Neither of you can read what kind of mood Two-Bit is in. He's been waiting in his car and not inside Buck's, so you figure at least he's not drunk.

"Morning," Steve offers.

"Yes, it is," Two-Bit replies. He shakes Steve's hand in greeting. He doesn't take his eyes off of you. "Is it lunchtime yet? I been running around town in such a flurry, I just about lost track of time. You got the time, Marina?"

You shake your head.

"Listen, we all know why we're here," Soda says. "Let's quit beating around the bush. She took off, I took off with her. We suck. Agreed? Can we just get on with it? If nothing else, it's going to be warmer in there."

You think back to your last visit to Buck's and you figure Soda's probably wrong about that.

Two-Bit says the words you've been dreading. "If he's in there, he ain't going anywhere. We got time. May I speak to your sister for a minute, please?"

Soda and Steve shrug. Two-Bit points to his car. You look at Soda, pleading with your eyes for help. Soda looks away. You curse him under your breath and follow Two-Bit back across the street to the Plymouth.

"I ain't staying in the car," You tell him when you get there.

"You're damned right you ain't. If I had a leash, girl, I'd put you on it. I told you I wasn't leaving you again, and then you run right off and ditch me. If you think you're getting out of my sight, you're out of your damned mind."

"I'm sorry," you say, and you mean it.

"I think we're all about to be a whole lot sorrier. What's the plan here?" He shoves his hands in his pocket and nods across the street. You wish he'd put his arm around you or make a move to kiss or something, but he doesn't.

"No plan. We're kind of making it up as we go."

"My favorite kind of plan," he says. He lights a cigarette and starts back across the street towards Soda and Steve.

"Two-Bit, I am sorry," you say again. "I'm sorry I made you chase us all over."

"I'm sure you are. Once again, my girl, you owe me." He spins around on his heels to look at you when he says it, but this time he isn't smiling.

* * *

><p>It surprises you that Buck is awake and moving around. He should be cleaning from the looks of the place, but it seems to have overwhelmed him. He appears to just be wandering around the first floor of his house with no real purpose. You wonder if he's on something.<p>

"Morning," Steve says to him.

Buck furrows his brow. Most people look mean when they do that. Buck looks confused.

"Can I get you fellas a Shirley Temple?" He asks. "How the fuck old is she?"

"We ain't staying," Two-Bit says. "We're looking for Shepard."

"Ain't seen him."

"Well, could he be upstairs perhaps?" Steve asks.

You add, "Or downstairs?"

"It's my house," Buck says. "I know who's in my house. Right now, there's three little kids in my living room. And you, Mathews, who ought to know better than to bring 'em here."

He's trying to sound authoritarian but Buck doesn't give the impression of knowing what day it is, let alone who might be in his house.

"We just want to talk. We ain't going to start a rumble. You mind if we knock on some doors?" Two-Bit asks.

"Yes, I fucking mind. It's eleven o'clock in the morning. If he's here- which he ain't- then he ain't going to want you knocking on his door."

There is movement in the kitchen and grumbling. Buck's eyes dart in the direction of it. Whatever he sees disturbs him. The grumbling escalates to slurred cursing. He takes a tentative step in its direction, and then turns back to it.

"Y'all get out here. Just get the hell out of my house. When I come back, y'all have better be gone."

And he runs towards the kitchen where a fight seems to have started.

"God, is he dumb," Steve says. "So, upstairs?"

You and Soda nod. You both head towards the stairs. A hand on your shoulder pulls you to a stop.

"Oh, hell no," Two-Bit says. "You ain't going up there. Not without me."

"And she's never going up there with you either," Soda says.

"We're all going up together," you tell them. "Two-Bit, you're welcome to hold my hand the whole goddamned way."

"Watch your fucking mouth. That's hardly ladylike," he tells you. The slightest bit of a smile curls up the corner of his mouth. You roll your eyes at him, but offer him your hand. He takes it and you follow him up the stairs with Soda and Steve behind.

The second floor of Buck's is rumored to be a magical place- a place of mystery where everyone gets laid and no one pays the price. You figure plenty of people have paid for it in cold, hard cash, but exactly who those people are remains a mystery. No one asks, and no one tells.

Two-Bit reaches the top of the stairs. He whispers, "Here, Timmy-Timmy…" and it makes you giggle.

He turns back to you and puts a finger to his lips.

"Be vewy quiet. We're hunting gweasers…"

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. He smiles full-on then and shakes his head as if there's something about your lip-biting that turns him on. You feel yourself begin to blush and shove him towards the first door.

There are four bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. Steve suggests you each take a bedroom. You and Soda nod. Two-Bit pokes his finger in your face.

"Naturally, I will call out to you if I find him first," you tell him.

"You'd damned well better, Marina," he says. "Well, let's see what's behind door number one."

The door in front of you doesn't even have a knob. You could just kneel down and peek through the hole where the knob should be. Instead, you push it open slowly. When you can see that there is someone asleep on the bed, you push it open the rest of the way and step inside.

It's Tim. He's sleeping shirtless, but in his jeans on top of the blankets. His torso is covered in bruises. The shades are pulled, but even in the dim light you can see a couple of older scars around his shoulders. Eventually, Steve's stab wound will look like that, you figure.

In spite of what you promised Two-Bit, you close the door behind you and keep quiet. You walk across the room quietly and stand over Tim's sleeping body. Now you don't know what to do. You're afraid to touch him. You know your hands are cold, and you don't know what kind of weapon he might have stashed beneath his pillow.

You take a deep breath. As small a sound as it is, it wakes him with a start.

"Christ Jesus," he says. He blinks hard and props himself up on his elbows. He looks around the room and asks you, "Did you stay here last night? You can just go ahead and go."

You raise your eyebrow at him.

"I just got here."

He grins at you. "Well, it's a little early for me, sweetheart. If you want to crawl in here, we can take a little nap."

"Fuck you," you say. It surprises you that the words left you mouth. It surprises Tim even more. It amuses him, though. His eyes widen, but the grin stays.

"I guess that's kind of what I was alluding to, honey," he says. "It'd break my brother's heart, but- you know- that's what he gets for getting thrown in."

"You lied to me."

"Yeah, I have kind of a habit of doing that with girls. What'd I lie to you about again?"

"You said you were in the hospital. You said you'd tell the cops to let Darry go."

Tim sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He's at your eye level now, but he doesn't look at you. He runs his fingers through his hair to push it back and grins across the room at the door.

"God, I really need to find that doorknob. It was only half a lie, honey. Look at me- I took a beating just like I said. And it wasn't from Darrel. I never went to the hospital, yeah, but I had 'em spring your brother when I got to the jail."

Before you can tell him that you don't get it, the door opens. You don't have to turn around. There are enough footsteps for you to know they're all there, having come up empty in their searches.

"Well, top of the morning to y'all," Tim says. His grin downgrades to a sly smile. "Damn, but you're a lucky man, Mathews. Her pretty face is something to wake up to."

You brace yourself for either Two-Bit or Soda to launch themselves across the floor at Tim's throat, but it doesn't happen.

Two-Bit says, "Shut the hell up and find yourself a shirt, Tim. We're going for a little Sunday drive."

Tim stands up and shrugs. He leans over- putting his hand on your shoulder for steadying that he doesn't really need- and snatches his shirt up off the floor. You step away when he lets you go. He winks at you and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

"Let's go," he says. "I'll buy breakfast."


	21. Chapter 21

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

"Anyone got a smoke?" Tim asks.

He's sitting in the back seat of Two-Bit's car between Soda and Steve. You and Two-Bit are up front, at Two-Bit's insistence. Soda hands Tim a cigarette. Two-Bit pushes the lighter in.

"Why, thank you," Tim mumbles. "Where are we having breakfast?"

You're curious about that yourself. You never got to eat the breakfast you made for you and Ponyboy. The third of a cookie you shared at the hospital is hardly tiding you over.

You don't like Two-Bit's answer.

"I was going to suggest maybe we join Darry for breakfast over at his place."

You would prefer to have your breakfast as far away from Darry as possible. You remain quiet, though, rather than argue and give the impression to Tim that Two-Bit is not in control of the situation.

The lighter pops out. You hand it back towards Tim, who leans forward to light his cigarette. He doesn't take it from you. Instead he wraps his hand around your wrist to hold it steady. You jerk your hand away and he sticks his bottom lip out in a dramatized pout. He sits back again, takes a drag off of his cigarette, and then offers it to Soda. Soda declines and he offers it to Steve. Steve shakes his head.

"Smoke, baby?" Tim asks you.

Two-Bit answers him: "No thanks, sweetheart."

You have a million questions for Tim, but you restrain yourself. You know how this works: Girls aren't supposed to appear to have any power in a group of guys. If it was just you and Tim, you could ask him anything you wanted. It has crossed your mind, though, that Tim is mad as a hatter. You can only imagine the kind of answers he'd give you. Two-Bit is right: Darry has the best chance of any of you of getting a straight story out of Tim.

Still, you don't want to stand trial before Darry just yet.

You wiggle to the center of the seat and ask Two-Bit, "Can we stop somewhere and get some coffee?"

"You guys out of coffee?" He wraps his arm around you, thinking you must be cold.

"No, just trying to prolong the inevitable."

"The inevitable what?"

"You think you were pissed when I took off? Darry's going to strangle me."

Two-Bit smiles. "I wasn't pissed. I was worried. Darry's just worried."

"Whatever," you say. "It's going to manifest itself in the form of him being very pissed."

"I'll bet," Two-Bit begins and then raises his voice for the benefit of the back seat, "That Darrel will be so happy to see Tim that he'll forget all about being worried over you and Sodapop."

No one believes him.

* * *

><p>Darry is sitting alone in the living room when the five of you arrive at the house. The TV isn't even on. He is stewing silence. You'd guess that Ponyboy is hiding in his bedroom. The pressure of the quiet makes you think the house is going to blow apart.<p>

"Look what we found," Two-Bit says and shoves Tim through the door.

Darry shoots up on to his feet. He throws his paper down. You can see the veins on his neck from across the room.

"You think I give a damn about him at this point?" He says. To your surprise, he ignores you and Soda. He steps right up to Two-Bit and looks him right in the eye.

"Gee, thanks," Tim says. He leans back against the wall next to the couch. You sit down on the couch.

Darry snaps at you "Don't get comfortable, Little Miss."

"I'm not leaving, you know," you tell Darry. "I'm staying here. I live here. I'm not going to stay at Colleen's."

"You're right. I think I've changed my mind about that." At first you're relieved when Darry says it, but then he turns to Two-Bit. "_You're_ going back to your place. I want you out of here. You're done with her and you're done with us. Get the hell out."

Soda says, "Darry, come on. It's Two-Bit."

Darry ignores him. He looks Two-Bit, who hasn't so much as flinched, dead in the eye.

"You heard me, Mathews. When we all left here- and, Soda, don't think you and I ain't going to have words about this…but when we all left here, I thought it was clear what I expected to happen. Find her and bring her back here. That's all you had to do. No adventures, no Wild West shenanigans. I should've known I couldn't trust you. One of them comes up with some harebrained scheme, and you've got to follow along. You're more a child than she is."

"Since when the hell have you been in charge of me, Curtis?" Two-Bit says. It comes out as a snarl. You expect him to spit.

"Apparently I'm not, but I am in charge of them, and you put them in harm's way. As if we weren't in enough shit already. Alright, I ain't in charge of you. I kneel down and thank Christ every night for that. You can go where ever the hell you want, Two-Bit, but you're going to get the hell out of my house and you're going to stay clear of my sister."

They stand there for a terrifying second and glare at one another. Then, Two-Bit breaks it. He raises his arms like he's going to push Darry, but he doesn't. He turns around and heads for the door.

"Wow," Tim says with a smirk. "Trouble in paradise."

Two-Bit swings and hits Tim so hard his feet leave the floor. He steps over Tim's dazed body and stomps out the door.

You whisper to Darry, "I'm going to my room."

He doesn't hear you. He's simultaneously shouting, "Get in your room" at you.

You turn and run towards it. Arriving there, you discover your door has been removed from its hinges. It's nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell do you think the social workers are going to say about this?" You shout back at Darry.

"I kind of doubt that even entered his mind." Ponyboy peeks in from the dining room.

"What- are you supposed to be keeping an eye on my now while he's yelling at Soda?"

Pony shrugs. "Yeah, I get first watch. Go easy on me, will you? Don't go jumping out the window or anything."

You exhale and nod at him.

You say," If I did that, he'd probably board it up."

"I wouldn't put it past him at this point. He's gone kind of crazy. It doesn't seem to have occurred to him that we all go to school with Two-Bit. It's not like we'll never see him again."

Instead of going in your room, the two of you slide down the wall that faces the bathroom and sit on the floor to listen.

"You alright?" You hear Darry say to Tim. There are shuffling noises and the creak of the couch springs. They're pulling him up off the floor and setting him on the couch.

"Yeah," Tim says. "I'm good."

"No- are you _alright_?" Darry's voice gets louder again. "I mean, are you out of your gourd, Shepard? What is going on with your boys? You got any control of them at all?"

You can feel Tim grinning through the walls that separate you. "Might ask you the same, Curtis. Was your little sister got me out of bed this morning. Not that I'm complaining, but I sincerely doubt that was your idea."

"Thanks, Tim," you whisper. Only Ponyboy can hear you.

Darry takes a deep breath.

Steve asks, "So who beat you up, Shepard?"

"Hank Aronson. How'd he not get arrested after they jumped you? I heard the cops showed up at Bennie's."

"Marina cut him with a nail file," Steve tells him. It pleases you that there seems to be a bit of joy in his voice, maybe even pride. "I'd guess they took him to the hospital and he lit out from there."

"Why'd you tell 'Rina you were in the hospital? You were in the jail with us." Soda asks.

"Didn't want anyone to know where I was. I was hurting pretty bad. Didn't know who I could trust. Truth told, I was pretty buzzed when Hank caught up to me. He about knocked me in to next week. I don't even remember you getting there, Darrel. I came to when the cops yanked me out of the car to walk up the station steps."

You and Ponyboy look at one another.

"So he lied because he thought he couldn't trust you?" Pony whispers. "That sound like a load…"

Before you can register your own suspicions, there is a soft scratching at your bedroom window. You and Pony both sneak towards it. It's Two-Bit. You hoist the window up far enough to stick your heads out.

He grins. "No offense, Ponyboy, but I kind of want to talk to her."

"Can you go keep watch for Darry?" You ask him. Pony shrugs and then retreats to the hall.

You turn back to Two-Bit.

"Lean out here again," he tells you. "I could see down your shirt before."

You take a swipe at him and he ducks, laughing as quietly as he knows how.

"Miss me, baby?"

"It's been almost five minutes, Two-Bit. What I'm missing is Shepard's exciting tales of his perilous evening."

"Yeah, his perilous evening upstairs at Buck's. Did he catch anything? Cooties? Bed bugs? Syphilis? Anything that comes out of that guy's mouth is a line. I'm sure he's spinning quite a tale."

You frown.

"It'll blow over with Darry. He won't make you stay away forever."

"Maybe it's time to cut the Curtis cord," Two-Bit says. "He's right. I need to grow up a little. I shouldn't have taken you there in the first place, and I definitely shouldn't have taken you in there this morning. You're a good girl, Marina. You ain't like the girls in there. That's why I like you."

"Well, maybe I like you because you ain't quite grown up."

He takes a step back from the window and puffs his chest out. He beckons you with his fingers.

"Hey, I'm a grown-ass man, honey. Come on out here and I'll prove it."

You bite back a laugh.

"As tempting as that sounds, I don't think we should push our luck quite so soon."

Ponyboy's voice interrupts you.

"Hey, 'Rina. You'd better shut that window. It's getting cold. They're going to feel it."

You whisper "thanks" to him and turn back to Two-Bit. He's come back to the window again. You lean out and he stands on his toes to kiss you.

"I'll see you tomorrow in school," he says.

You nod. "You know where to find me."

You shut the window, wincing when it makes a scraping sound. When no one from the front room comes to kill you, you sneak back to where Ponyboy is sitting.

"Where are we at with the Shepard's tale?"

Pony shakes his head. "It's a tangled mess. My best guess is he's losing his gang, and so he set it up so us and them would take each other out. I think he wanted us to fight them to protect him, but I don't get why he didn't just ask. We'd have done it. We've always had his back before."

"We had Dally before. Maybe Tim thought we wouldn't take his side without Dally being the middle man."

You frown at the wall in front of you. Something is still strange. Tim said on the phone that he and Darry had an understanding. You wonder what that is, but there's no way you're going out into the living room to ask.

Before either you or Pony can scramble, Darry suggests they go sit in the dining room. He says there are some eggs left. They're your eggs- yours and Pony's from this morning. You don't care how cold and rubbery they must be by now. You're starving and you want some.

"Soda, you can sit this one out," Darry tells him. "Steve, go on home now. Tim and I will handle this. Ponyboy and Marina…I know you're sitting right there. Get in your damned rooms. Why is it so cold in here?"

Ponyboy grins at you. He scampers to his feet and takes off after Sodapop. You stand up and hover in the hallway door for a moment. Darry has gone into the kitchen and left you alone with Tim.

Tim looks towards Darry in the kitchen and then back at you. He gestures for you to come to him. You shake your head. He rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you.

"You're a smart little girl. I get why my brother's so hung up on you."

"So you've said."

"Can't figure what you're doing with Mathews, though. Must be like babysitting."

"For which one of us?"

Tim grins. He reaches out and slips his hand around the back of your neck. He doesn't pull you forward, though, and you don't pull away. It seems like a friendly gesture. It confuses you that it feels so kind.

Darry drops something in the kitchen. Tim lets you go.

"I got to get to bed," you tell him.

"I'll just have to sit here and think about that," he replies.

You feel yourself begin to blush and take off down the hall.


	22. Chapter 22

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Late January, 1966- the next week.

Sometimes it scares you- how the memory of what it was like with your parents around seems to have slipped away so quickly. Some days you find that you can't remember your dad's voice singing Jimmie Rodgers from beneath the hood of a car in the back yard. You have to try hard to remember that look your mom used to give you- the one you thought you hated- whenever you did something she deemed unladylike.

Darry must be forgetting it too. He's forgetting how they used to get on him and how it never worked. Once upon a time, Darry raised plenty of hell of his own. Whenever your mother- and it was usually your mother- put the screws on him, it only made things worse. Darry would find a way around it. He didn't flaunt it. He didn't throw his indiscretions in their faces. Darry was sneaky. If there was a girl good-looking enough or a beer bust at the Catoosa dam, Darry would make it happen. When the heat came down, he never talked back, but he never apologized either. That's how you knew he was going to do it again.

Darry is forgetting who he once was. He's forgetting that he was that example before he was the example he is now. You learned everything you know from Darry.

You meet Two-Bit in the bell tower each day during lunch. You make out for twenty-five minutes and then he walks you to American Lit. Sometimes he goes to American Lit. and sometimes he doesn't. You don't want to be like Evie- always looking for something to rag on Steve about- so you don't say anything about it. You have to go to American Lit. to avoid getting busted. That's the smart way to do it. Keep going to fifth hour and no one will ask what you're doing immediately before.

Each day, things get more heated, and you let it happen:

On Monday, he's gliding his hand across your belly.

By Tuesday, he's up your shirt.

On Wednesday, his other hand is down the front of your skirt.

Thursday, you're fumbling around inside his undone jeans.

When the bell rings, you both look at each other with dazed eyes. Half of you wants to keep going; the other half wants to run like hell.

"You got to go to class, baby," he says.

You frown up at him, confused. He cracks a grin and kisses your forehead.

"We ain't going to do this here." He is incredulous. "There's all kinds of boards and rusty shit. We'll get splinters. Go to class."

"Then you go too."

"I can't. I already missed half a day. I'm absent. If show up now, I got to have a note."

"I'll write you one."

He raises his eyebrow and then ducks his head to kiss your neck.

"What's my excuse?" He asks, rubbing his stubbled chin against your neck. "I was undressing my girlfriend in the bell tower and I couldn't be bothered to come to school?"

You shrug his chin away. It feels too good.

He steps back, shaking his head and smiling. He makes a circling motion with his hand, indicating that you should put your skirt and blouse back in place.

"Aronson and them giving you guys any shit?"

You shake your head. "Haven't seen 'em all day. I thought Jimmy was in jail yet."

"Maybe. Shit, I ought to walk you to class. You shouldn't be anywhere alone."

"I'll be alright. Like I said- I ain't seen them. Where are you going to go?"

He rubs his chin, but doesn't answer. You get your skirt buttoned. When you start to tuck your skirt back under it, he pulls you to him again, saying, "let me help you with that."

He tugs your blouse up again and leans over to kiss your belly. You slap on his back and squeak through tightly-closed lips.

Two-Bit stands straight again. "Goddamn, I'd like to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. What are the odds of you sneaking out tonight? Meet me in the lot and we'll take off somewhere."

"I no longer have a bedroom door."

"Well, then leaving your room should be pretty easy."

You giggle. "Duh, Two-Bit, but I can't make hardly a move without anyone hearing me."

"Shit, he is serious this time, ain't he? He's still got to sleep. You think by eleven? You think he'll be out by then?"

You nod. Darry is usually beat when he gets home from work at five. Sometimes he's out by nine-thirty.

Two-Bit says, "Okay, then. Meet me in the lot as soon as you can after eleven. I'll wait around for twenty minutes or so, and then I'll figure you couldn't get out."

You cock your head to the side and look him over. For the first time, you find yourself thinking like a girlfriend would think.

"Then what? Then where are you going to go?"

"Home," he says. He winks and kisses you one more time. "Home to take a cold shower."

* * *

><p>Every day, before you can even think about lunch and fifth hour with Two-Bit, you have to make it through first hour with Marla. Your stomach is always nervous, but you head for the library anyway. You like the library. You find your mind doesn't wander when you're working there. It was her that followed you when you took the internship anyway. You sort of consider it your turf. You guess you're probably that only North-sider who ever claimed a library as their turf.<p>

She says "good morning" to you every morning, but not much else. By Friday, you're ready to scream at her. Maybe it's the added anticipation of what's bound to happen with Two-Bit in a few hours, but your head is spinning. You're in a mood for pushing the envelope, her envelope, any envelope.

Marla is sitting at the table in the middle of the library. She's taping broken book bindings. She says "good morning" to you without looking up.

"So, you got home alright the other night," you say. It's more of a statement of fact than a question.

She nods. "Yeah. My dad came."

You want to ask if her dad was pissed. She looks up at you quickly and blinks, like she wants you to ask. She looks back down again when you don't.

"I never done anything like that before," you offer. "I never stabbed anyone with a nail file."

She doesn't look up. Her will to ignore you says it all. Marla knows what kind of girl you are: you've stolen a car, you've run away, been sent away, you've hung out at Buck's. She thought you were something else- tough on the outside, but sweet on the inside. She was wrong. She can see that now, and she doesn't have anything more to say to the likes of you.

You set down the stack of books you'd picked up. The library is quiet save for the sound of Marla pulling strips of binding tape. The librarian uses your presence as a reason to go out and smoke. She is nowhere to be seen.

"So, you got this?" You ask Marla in your best Dallas Winston I-Could-Give-A-Shit-Whether-You-Do-Or-Not voice. You nod at the books on the table. You refuse to even raise your arm to gesture.

Marla shrugs.

"Okay," you tell her. You walk out the door and keep walking. You get your coat out of your locker and your book bag with your pocket book in it.

When you step out into the bright sunlight from the dimness of the halls of Will Rogers, you have only two things on your mind: Sylvia Ryan and catching the first bus downtown.


	23. Chapter 23

SE Hinton owns them all. Happy November 5th birthday to Tim Shepard. He's officially a senior citizen!

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

The bus pulls away from the bus stop across the street from Will Rogers. You exhale with relief, and then catch your breath again when it jerks to a stop to wait for another passenger.

"Jesus Christ," you mumble when Two-Bit bounces through the doorway and tosses his change into the bin.

He doesn't look at you when he swings around hard on the pole and slams into the seat beside you. He keeps looking straight ahead out the opposite window when he asks:

"Should I be taking this personally?"

You can't help but smile at that. "No."

"I wasn't pushing you too hard or nothing? Because you seemed like you were into it to me. I could've been mistaken though, although I have to say you been sending some pretty mixed up signals."

"It ain't you. I'm just mixed up."

He "hmmms" to himself and thinks for a minute. You look down at your lap.

"Give me a little credit, Marina," he says. "I know I had a few that night at Buck's, but not enough to erase the ride home from my memory. I'm pretty sure- during the course of that conversation- I told you we could talk about stuff. Anything you wanted, I'll listen to you. Remember? We known each other long enough. We can talk about shit."

Your eyes fill up with tears. You look up and out the window because if you keep looking downward they'll fall into your lap.

When you don't say anything, he says, "Gonna tell me where you're going?"

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

From the corner of your eye, you see him smile at that.

"A pattern is emerging here," he says.

"Shut up," you tell him because it seems weird that Two-Bit is calling you on being impulsive and flakey.

He shrugs. "Alright, I'll shut up. But you got to talk. Tell me a tale, kid. Tell me what's happening with Marina Curtis."

It feels good to have him calling you 'kid' again. Before you can stop the words, you hear yourself telling him, "I don't want to go to school anymore."

"Join the club," he says. "Funny they don't have a club for that. There's got to be enough interest. Maybe we could charter a club…anyway, carry on…"

You don't know what to say next. You offer:

"Maybe I could get a job like Soda did."

Two-Bit smirks like that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "A job…" he mumbles.

"You're not helping," you tell him. "Listen- you ain't been to American Lit. since Tuesday. I don't know what it is you do…"

"You really want to know what it is I do after fooling around with you…when you leave me alone…by myself…in the bell tower?"

You hit him in the thigh. "I suppose I should be flattered."

He puts his arm around and pulls you close so that he can whisper in your ear.

"You _should_ be in school so that you can meet up with me during lunch."

"I got something I need to do," you tell him. You don't shrug him off though. He sits back again and commences with looking out the window. He leaves his arm draped over your shoulder.

"You going to tell me what that is?"

"I'll tell you when I'm finished with it."

"How long is it going to take you to finish?"

"I don't know, but I should be able to make some headway if I take today off from school."

He nods. "Where you going to be after school? I'll pick you up."

"Pick me up at the library."

"The library? Whatever you got to do that's so important- more important than spending quality time with me- is at the library?"

You look up at him and wink. "No. That's just where you can meet me."

You reach up and pull the bell. This isn't the stop you need, but you're ready to move. You don't want to answer anymore of Two-Bit's questions. You figure you can walk the rest of the way.

You stand up and hold on to the rail above you until the bus stops. Two-Bit frowns up at you. He's trying to look thoughtful, but you know he's pouting.

"It's okay," you tell him. "Library. Three-thirty. I'll be there."

"You'd better," he says. You lean down to kiss him on the cheek. He cocks his eyebrow. It's probably the only time you've ever kissed him first and he's not sure whether that's a good thing or not.

* * *

><p>It takes you almost 45 minutes to walk from the bus stop to Buck's. If it hadn't been for Two-Bit, you could have ridden all the way to the stockyard. If you had any sense, you would have waited for the bus to disappear and then waited around for another one. You didn't think of that until you had almost arrived at your destination.<p>

The house is quiet, but there are half a dozen cars parked outside. Buck's pick-up is parked around back. You hope he's still asleep. Without your entourage, he'll most likely win his bid to send you packing.

There is no one in the front room when you enter, though. You peek into the empty kitchen and listen for noises downstairs. It's so quiet that, once again, you stop and sniff the air for the smell of gas. There's nothing but the smell of mold and stale beer.

You climb the stairs slowly, keeping close to the wall so they don't creak. Tim's room still doesn't have knob on the door. You lean down the peek through the hole. He's there, asleep. You push the door open quietly and cross the room to stand over him again until he springs to life.

"Jesus H. Christ!" He hisses at you. "You're like the angel of death!"

"If I was here for you, maybe."

"What do you want? If it ain't me you're here for then you're in the wrong room."

You shake your head. "Where's Sylvia?"

Tim looks at the empty pillow on the other side of his bed and then back to you.

"Well, she ain't here. How the hell should I know?"

"You know." You stop short of saying that he knows everything, but he knows you're thinking it. Tim smiles at you.

"What do you need Sylvia for?"

"A haircut," you tell him.

Tim reaches up and brushes at the short bangs on your forehead. You take a step back from him.

"What do you need a haircut for? It ain't short enough? Goddamn, I got longer hair than you do."

"Good thing I got no interest in trying to impress you then, ain't it?" You tell him. Truth is- a part of you still wants to impress Tim. Most likely Tim knows that too.

He rolls his eyes and sits up. He's wearing only his boxers and his socks. He rubs his eyes with one hand and motions for you to grab his jeans off a chair with another.

You do it, but tell him, "I don't need you to take me to her. I just want to know where she is."

"No," he grumbles. "You need me to take you to her. It's quite a hike from here."

"I took the day off. I can hike."

"No, please. Allow me to drive you," he says in a flat voice. Putting on his jeans seems to wake him up a little. He changes the subject, "So are you still bangin' Mathews or what?"

"How is that any of your business?"

He shrugs and reaches past you for his t-shirt.

"It ain't, but my brother's going to be out in a couple weeks. I know he's going to ask."

"Then, by all means, tell him I'm banging Two-Bit."

Tim grins. "Going to break his heart, I tell you. Congratulations, honey- you're officially a heartbreaker. With your Joan of Arc hair and your creepy wake-up calls and…Christ, don't you have a real coat?"

You shake your head. "This is my coat."

Tim shrugs, snatches his cigarettes and lighter from the top of the dresser and walks out of the room without any indication that you should follow. You do anyway. You follow him downstairs and out on the porch. He stops and you nearly run into him. Tim blinks and looks up and down the street.

"Christ Jesus. Where's my car?"

You look up and down the street with him. You don't see his car.

"Did you leave it somewhere?"

"You think?" He asks, and then looks a little apologetic. Without further fanfare, he taps your arm and starts off into the yard. He walks around to the back of the house to Buck's pick-up and jerks on the door open. The keys fall into his hand when he pulls the visor down. He shakes his head and mumbles something about what a dumbass Buck is.

When you don't move, he says to you, "What's the matter? Never stolen are car before? Oh, that's right- you have stolen a car. You having a nostalgic moment over it or what? Come on. I ain't got all day to run your errands for you."

You walk around the front of the truck and twitch a little when Tim starts it up and revs the engine. You climb in to the seat next to him. He jams it in to reverse and has to fight to keep it there. The gear shift shudders and tries to work it's was back to neutral.

"Piece of shit," Tim mutters. He already has a cigarette in his mouth. You reach forward and push the lighter in. He raises his eyebrows and mumbles "thank you". He turns halfway around and peels the truck backwards into the alley.

"Can I ask where we're going?"

"You sure can," he replies, and then doesn't tell you.

"Where are we going, Tim?"

"To find Sylvia. I thought that's what you wanted."

"Where though?"

"Oh, it's far, far from here, honey. Sylvia's run off to a place of unspeakable beauty. It's like no other place in Tulsa."

You return to your earlier suspicion that Tim is out of his mind. Now you're beginning to wonder if he's stuffed Sylvia's body somewhere and he's planning to stuff yours there too. You watch him light his cigarette. He turns the radio up and begins to sing along with whatever Buck was tuned into last.

It's a Jimmie Rodgers song, one your father used to sing to himself around the house. It surprises you that Tim knows it. He strikes you as more of an Elvis guy.

"You like this song?"

He shrugs. "What song is it? I just heard it before. Buck's always playing it- wakes me up in the morning. On the mornings when you're not waking me up."

"'Miss the Mississippi and You'." You tell him.

"No, baby, that's the Arkansas."

"That's the name of the song," you say and then realize he's pointing with his cigarette towards the Arkansas River Bridge. You're heading across the river towards the south side of town.

You're nearly to the other side of the bridge when Tim says, "It dawns on me that I'm probably going to get shot being a guy a like me in a truck like this with an underage girl on the Soc side of town. Maybe we ought to pull over for a second and talk about it."

Your heart leaps as he veers the truck sharply to the left, across two lanes of traffic, and towards an overlook at the end of the bridge. It's not just his driving that has you alarmed. Now you're certain he's going to kill you.

"What?" Tim says.

"What are we doing here?"

"I'm afraid, honey, for my own safety that this is as far as I go. I can give you the address. It ain't hard to find."

You turn around and look at the groomed, tree-lined neighborhood that begins where the bridge ends.

"What's she doing there?"

"She lives there," Tim says. "With her ma and her daddy and her lovely, little daughter."

"She and Dally had a kid?"

Tim smirks. "No way. That kid's like seven years old or something. She had her when she was in high school. Her parents booted her out, but they took the baby in when she had it. Sylvia handed over the kid, but just stayed gone herself until Dally got shot."

"Why'd she go back? She had a job and all…"

"She said it was too much. Losing Dal was too much, if you can imagine that. She just wanted to go back and have things easy. Christ, that dumb sonofabitch Dally. It was probably his most precious wish that he'd have the power to drive a girl over the edge like that, and now he ain't around to enjoy it. What an asshole."

"Did he drive her over the edge?"

"Well, no. I guess she's fine. Frightfully wealthy. She called me once to assure me that she was fine, like I care. Pretty little daughter, though."

You furrow your brow at Tim. He's made a mistake in the yarn he's spinning and he hasn't caught it. If Sylvia called him, you wonder, how does he know what her daughter looks like?

"You still want to see her?" He asks. "Still think you need your hair cut?"

You shake your head.

"You mean you dragged me all the way out here for nothing?"

You shake your head again. "Not for nothing."

"Good to know. You got anything else you need to do? Done with your Sherlock Holmes shit for the day? Let's go find my car."

You nod. He puts the truck in reserve once again and has the same battle with it. This time, he relents and lets it fall into neutral. The truck rolls backwards down the slight incline and into the street. Tim wedges himself between the seat and the clutch, jerks it into first, and drives you back to your side of the bridge.

* * *

><p><em>Going to give Marina and Co. a little rest while I work on my Nanowrimo story. She'll be back. <em>

_Reviews and concrit are always appreciated. Fire at will..._


	24. Chapter 24

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

I should have made this my Nano project. It's flowing along a whole lot easier than my other story.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

February 1966-

You finally give it up on Valentine's Day, and it goes alright. It doesn't hurt and it's not the bloodbath you expected from hearing other girls talk about it. Still, when it's over, you just want to leave. Two-Bit thinks this is hilarious.

"You're like a guy," he tells you. He's stretched out on the bed- his bed. He and you snuck out of school and back to his house towards the end of the afternoon when you knew his mom would be at work.

"Really?" You ask him. "You have a lot of experience with guys in this area?"

He grins and hits you with a pillow.

"I mean, I always thought girls wanted to cuddle and talk about it and…" He cuts himself off. This time it's you who's cocking the eyebrow. You and Two-Bit both know he's not talking about hypothetical girls. He's speaking from experience.

"I'm just antsy is all," You tell him, and that's the truth. The next part is a lie, though. "I just keep expecting your mom or Darry to walk in. I can't shake the feeling we're going to get busted. I just need to move around."

"Well, you can stay here with me. We can move around plenty."

You hit him back with the pillow.

"I got to go home," You tell him. "I got to get there before Ponyboy."

Two-Bit nods and then shrugs. You wish he wouldn't watch you get dressed. All you can think about is Kathy and her curves and how scrawny you are in comparison.

"So what are we doing for Valentine's Day?" Two-Bit asks you.

You can't help but grin. "I thought we just did that."

He laughs out loud. He sits up and fishes his boxers out from under the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around him as he does it. It irritates you that he seems so much more modest about his body. You had worked so hard to act like you didn't care if he saw yours.

"Well, what should we do for Valentine's night then, my girl?"

"Whatever it is, it will have to involve my living room and Darry and Ponyboy sitting there watching us."

"So pretty much like the whole first sixteen years we known each other."

"Yeah, more of that, I guess."

He's chomping at the bit to get out somewhere with you. You can feel it. Last week, he even bit the bullet and went to see Darry at work. He said he knew he was forgiven when the first thing Darry asked him was why he wasn't in school. Two-Bit won't tell you what they talked about after that, only that he ate most of Darry's lunch. He brought more of his mom's tomato sauce over that night to make up for it. Darry let him in as though nothing had happened between them.

For your part, you're about ready to jump the fence, too. Darry found out about the day you skipped and went looking for Sylvia. He doesn't know why you left school or that you spent the afternoon with Tim, only that you left school. He grounded you again and demanded better grades. The grades have improved and you haven't skipped a day in three weeks. Maybe Darry will let up just for one night. It is Valentine's Day after all.

"Maybe Darry will cut us a break," You say. "Being that it is a holiday."

"Worth a shot," Two-Bit says, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "If you don't think of something, though, I'm going to insist we come back here for the night. My mom's going to be gone till the bar closes and Darla's next door."

You shrug. Two-Bit seems surprised when you tell him you could go for that.

* * *

><p>Darry greets you at dinner time by coming through the door and grumbling, "You skipped seventh hour" at you.<p>

"There's a dance tonight," You tell him. "They let all the girls out to decorate for it."

"Then why didn't you decorate?"

"Would you want _me_ to decorate for _your_ Valentine's Day dance?" You ask him. He almost smiles.

"Then why didn't you stick around and try to learn something?"

"Can I go out with Two-Bit tonight?"

"And do what?" He asks. His back is to you so he can't possibly know you're blushing. He probably knows anyway. You convince yourself that he knows.

"We haven't decided yet."

"Then no," Darry says. "I ain't just letting you loose on the world to jump on whatever bandwagon happens to pass by. You and him come up with a plan, and I might consider it."

"Does it have to involve Soda and Steve and half of creation as chaperones?"

Darry turns around to look at you. You take a step back from him, still convinced he can sense what you've been up to all afternoon. He furrows his brow. Something is off and he knows it.

"What?" You say.

He frowns at you. "Can't you ever just be a little girl, 'Rina? Just do me a favor- go easy on me and just be a little girl."

_Too late_, you think to yourself. You shrug at him. The two of you look at each other for a long, painful moment and then you dart passed him towards the kitchen under the guise of needing to help Ponyboy set the table.

* * *

><p>Buck's was not part of the plan you presented to Darry. Neither was going to Two-Bit's house beforehand. You told Darry you were going to a movie when Two-Bit came to pick you up.<p>

"Which one?"

"A Valentiney one," Two-Bit replied and winked at you. You shot him a look in reply. He wasn't helping.

"I want to see 'The Fortune Cookie'," You told Darry. "But Two-Bit was thinking something mushy."

Darry didn't look up from the TV. "I can about guess what Two-Bit's thinking."

He waved you both away, though. You didn't immediately bolt for the door. You felt sad watching him sit there watching TV. For a second or two, you wished you could trade your freedom for Darry to have a night out with some girl the way he used to.

When he realizes you're still standing there, he looks up at you and says, "Midnight. Not a damned second past. You hear that, Mathews?"

It's almost nine by the time you get to Buck's. You can hear the music from the street. It's cold, but there are people standing in the yard. Tim Shepard is among them. He doesn't say a word in greeting, but gives you a sly smile when you walk passed. He reaches out and yanks Two-Bit back to him by the collar of his jacket.

"Hey, honey," he says to you. "Why don't you run in and get us a couple of beers while I talk to your old man here."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Tim," You say with overblown brightness. He grins at you.

"I ain't anybody's fucking Valentine, honey. Get me a beer and I'll promise your boyfriend I won't try and make myself yours."

You roll your eyes. Tim wiggles his fingers in a walking motion, indicating that you should run along. Two-Bit winks at you. He turns away to light a cigarette. He seems to have accepted that you can handle Tim just fine on your own.

You stomp your way through the crowded front room. It annoys you that Tim doesn't think you're worthy of standing around listening while he and Two-Bit talk shop or whatever. If he's sending you away to make you curious, it's working. You can't help but wonder what he needs to talk to Two-Bit about. When you get to the kitchen, though, you realize it's probably nothing. The scheme was to get you into the kitchen.

You've heard Curly was out, but he hasn't made it to school yet so you haven't seen him until now. He's sitting on the counter, beer in hand, talking shit to some guys playing poker at the kitchen table. You decide to beat him to the punch and get it over with.

"What's going on, Curly?"

"You're what's going on, baby," he says. He's quick, you got to hand it to him, but it doesn't sound as good coming out of his mouth as it would have out of Tim's. "Hey, Marina."

He hops down from the counter like he expects you to hug him or something. Six months in the reformatory hasn't beaten the giddiness out of him. An older, wiser Shepard gang member would've stayed sitting on the counter. He wouldn't have acted happy to see you. He'd have waited to see how you felt about seeing him first. Not Curly- he has all the subtly of a puppy. You take a step back in case he starts to drool like one.

"Ain't seen you in school yet," You say.

He shrugs. "Not sure I'm going back. Haven't decided."

"Don't you have a probation officer to decide that for you?" You know he does because you have one yourself. Yours isn't real committed to your reform- you just have to turn in grades and not get arrested again. Curly's been in the JDC before, though, and his latest indiscretion involved a gun. His PO might take a little more interest in him.

"Ain't met him yet," Curly says. He shrugs and tries to look nonchalant. You can see by the way he ducks his eyes that he's sweating bullets over it. Tim wouldn't check in with any PO, so Curly's trying to hang tough and not do it either. It's weighing on him, though. You can see it.

He takes another drink of his beer and nods at the bottles in your hand.

"Those all for you?"

"Yes, I've developed a terrible alcohol problem since you last saw me."

"Well, this is the place for it, I guess. You here with someone?"

You nod. "I am, actually. I'm here with Two-Bit. This is his-" You hold up the bottle in your left hand and the two in your right. "…And this is mine, and this is your brother's."

"Timmy sent you on a little errand, huh? Me, too, except I haven't completed my mission yet. I'm supposed to be out slashing tires."

"Whose?"

"Aronson and Baker. Christ, you have any idea what went on with those two while I was in? Was there a mutiny or what? All I know is I come back and Tim's telling me he cut them loose and I'm supposed to be slashing their tires tonight so they can't get away when we…"

He stops. He's said too much. He can see it in the way that your nostrils just flared. You glance behind you towards the front door, and then look back at Curly.

"…tonight when you jump them." You finish his sentence. "And since y'all are down a few in numbers, my guess is Tim is out there right now trying to convince Two-Bit that he needs in on that action."

Curly looks down at his shoes. "I'd guess that."

"Shit," you say. There's no way that you're such a great lay already that Two-Bit couldn't be drawn away from the promise of more of that by Tim's promise of rendering a beating on Aronson and Baker. You can almost hear him justifying it to you. He's doing it _for_ you, he'll say. After the way Aronson treated you at Bennie's, don't you want him to beat them up?

"A minute," you say to Curly.

He says, "Sure," brightly, pleased by the prospect that you might be coming back.

You push your way back through the front room. Before you can get to the door, though, a voice catches you in your tracks.

"Awww, poor little honey. Welcome to the wonderful world of dating Two-Bit Mathews."

It's Kathy. She's leaning against the wall next to the stairs. She's pretty blazed, but she's trying to play it off like she's leaning to look cool.

"He's gone, honey. Took off with Shepard. I'm sure he'll be right back, though. Of course, he has a very different sense of time than you and I. Minutes become hours, hours become days…"

"Thanks, Kathy. You're on fire with knowledge," You say to her. Her snide little grin slips away and she glares at you. You smile back, waiting for her to charge you with all ten fingernails. She doesn't seem to want to step away from the safety of the wall though.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Kathy," You tell her and turn back to the kitchen.

"Gone?" Curly asks you.

You nod. You hate looking foolish in front of Curly. You're used to having the upper hand on him.

"So," you say. "You're supposed to be out slashing tires. You need some help with that?"

"Love some," he replies. He tosses his empty beer bottle over your shoulder and into the metal trash can where it shatters. This time, his movements are as smooth and careless as Tim's. He taps one of the poker players on the shoulder and asks if he can borrow his blade. The guy hands it over and Curly hands it to you. He steps aside to let you go first through the door.

The two of you step out into the night too look for Aronson's car.


	25. Chapter 25

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Curly.

I love Curly Shepard. Sometimes Marina's kind of a moron.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Later that night, Valentine's Day, 1966-

Slashing tires is harder than it looks. The word "slashing" implies that tires are something you can slice through like bread. It's not like that. First, it's a stabbing motion that requires a tight grip on the knife handle to keep your hand from sliding down and getting cut on the blade. Once you've penetrated the tire, you have to jerk the knife to the side to rip a bigger hole, one that can't be easily patched with a trip to Steve Randle. The aim is to not just immobilize the car for now; you want to destroy the tires.

You're aware of most of this, but Curly tells you anyway. Slashing tires is like a science to him. If slashing tires was a science, he'd have no reason to worry about returning to school.

"You ought to come back to school," you tell him.

The way he snarls back tells you that he's scared: "What do you care?"

"I guess," you let the truth slip out unguarded into the cold, "that I got this thing since Dally and Johnny died that we all got to stick together. Soda went back. I guess I got him to come back."

"Well, that's your brother's gang, not mine."

"Don't matter. Seems like we're all into it with Aronson and those guys now."

You've found Hank Aronson's car. It's parked outside a diner only about three blocks from Buck's. Aronson's always hungry, Curly tells you. This place was a pretty safe bet.

"Come to think of it, I'm fucking hungry too," Curly says.

"Well, maybe he'll buy you some pie after we're through here."

Curly grins at you. "He's fucking dumb enough. Can you see him?"

You squint and scan the windows. You nod.

"He's got his back to the window."

"Idiot," Curly mumbles. "Where does Tim find these people? Okay, stand watch, will you?"

You nod. You lean against the car next to Aronson's and watch his back against the diner window. Curly makes his way around the car. When the first tire hisses, Aronson twitches like a ghost just whispered in his ear. You kick at the side of the car to signal Curly to be still for a second. Aronson goes back to his food. You kick again and Curly continues.

The car begins to sink down as the tires leak out. You keep a close watch on Aronson. He's too caught up with his burger and the basketball game on TV to notice his car getting lower behind him. The fourth tire hisses. Curly's head pops up like a gopher's from the opposite side of the car.

"Walk away," he tells you. "Real slow. I'll meet you on the corner. The two of us together's too conspicuous."

You nod again. You realize that like yourself and so many of the guys you know, Curly isn't stupid. He just isn't cut out for school. Every move he makes is calculated. He's thought this evening through, and he would have completed his task just as successfully without you.

You walk to the corner and stand next to the stop sign. In a minute, you hear Curly's footsteps come up behind you.

"I think you've found your niche in this world, sir," You tell him.

He pauses to light a cigarette. "Still think I need to come back to school?"

He inhales, flicks the first of the ashes and then hands the cigarette over to you.

"Going to be a trek to Artie's place. Sure you want to come along?"

"What else am I going to do?" You ask him.

He shrugs.

It's cold and the two of you walk fast and close together. The sleeves of your jackets brush together and you barely have to raise your hands to pass the cigarette. You tell Curly about how the thing with Aronson escalated. You ask him what he thinks Jimmy was showing Tim outside of Buck's the day you caught Two-Bit kissing Kathy. You leave out the part where Two-Bit was kissing Kathy. You leave out the part about playing pool with Tim, too.

"Couldn't tell you," Curly says.

"Couldn't or won't?"

"No, I really don't know. My guess'd be guns, maybe, but I seen them lay those out on Merrill's kitchen table. Don't know why Jimmy'd have to drag Tim all the way outside for that."

Your stomach tightens a little.

"Do they have guns on them now?"

"Well, yeah. I'd guess they do," he says. He elbows you when he sees you're frowning. "Tim's packing, too. It's alright. He won't let nobody shoot Two-Bit. Unless you want to do it later on."

He winks at you and elbows you again.

"I guess this is just the way it is, huh?" You ask, although not really to him.

"How what is?"

"How guys and girls think they're supposed to be around here. Everyone else seems to accept it. Well, I knew someone who didn't," you say, thinking of Marla. "But that was pretty much that end of that."

"Wouldn't know," Curly says. "Never really had a steady girlfriend. The only time I ever think about it when I see guys pull that shit with my sister. Then I don't like it, but I can't say I'd do it any different. There…"

He points up the street at a car parked under a light. You've turned up a side street lined with row houses. Art must live in one of them. Curly stops to survey the scene. He rubs his hands together and blows into them.

"Shit, but it's cold. I wonder if Artie left the keys in her. If he did, let's drive it halfway back and then pop the tires."

You nod and follow him up the street. Art's keys are in the ignition. Curly declares Art to be as much an idiot as Aronson. You creep to the passenger door and Curly opens the driver's side. You climb in and let the doors click shut. Curly doesn't turn the key yet. He puts the car in neutral and lets it roll back to the corner. Then he cranks it over and turns on the headlights. You can't help but be a little impressed.

"You eat yet?" Curly asks you.

You shake your head.

"Holy Christ, it's Valentine's Day. He didn't even take you out to dinner?"

"Well, I ate something at home, but that was a while ago. If you're hungry, let's go get something. As long as we got the car and all."

Your attempt to change the subject fails. Curly's on a roll now. You figure it's your fault for questioning the dynamics of boys and girls on the north side of town.

"The fucker took you to Buck's? No flowers? No candy?"

"We didn't just go to Buck's." It slips out before you have a chance to think.

"Oh, yeah? Where else did you go that was so romantic?" When you don't answer, Curly says, "oh. You went to his place? Does your brother know about him and you?"

You give Curly an incredulous look. Just to yank his chain you tell him, "My brother said I could go. He doesn't care."

"Your brother said you could go _where_?" Curly laughs. It's a bitter laugh, though. "I seen Angel pull that one plenty of times. 'We're just going to the Nightly-Double, Tim'. Hell- you ask her later, though, and she couldn't tell you what the movie was."

The thought makes you a little squeamish.

"How old is your sister?"

"I don't know. Thirteen or fourteen."

"Well, I'm sixteen. That's different."

"Is it? You're still all bummed out on Valentine's Day. Got laid and got ditched and now you're stuck slashing tires with me."

You attempt- once more- to turn it around on him. "Well, I'm sorry to have been a burden to you."

"Don't be like that," he says. "You ain't a burden. You know what I mean. I know you don't like me. You're just along for the ride because you think it'll turn your old man's head if he comes back and sees us together. And if it ain't that, it's just you keeping your mind off of him."

"It ain't either," you say. You lay your head against the window. Truth is, you are- or were- having fun the way you used to with Dally. Running around with Curly is a rush- trading insults, plotting and sneaking around like little kids playing at being pirates. Since your parents died, raising Cain with Dally was as close as you could get to feeling like a kid again. Since Dally died, you've done nothing but grow up faster and faster until tonight.

When you don't elaborate, Curly says, "Up here is where we ditch this piece of shit."

"Thought you were hungry."

"I got over it," he says.

You try to look him over without turning your head to make it obvious. They're the opposite of what everyone thinks of them- the Shepard boys. Everyone pegs Tim for the serious operator and takes Curly for a goof. It's not like that, you realize. Two-Bit said that Tim would create trouble if there's none to be found. Tonight there's plenty, and Tim's over the moon. It's Curly who's jaded and angry. He's just as trapped out here on the street as he was in the reformatory. He isn't dumb and he isn't lazy. His spastic, desperate energy comes from feeling forever caged up.

Dally would get that. You get it too.

* * *

><p>Buck Owens is playing on the record player when you and Curly arrive back in Buck Merrill's living room. The couples have paired off. Most of them seem to be holding one another up more than they seem to be dancing.<p>

"I'd ask you if you wanted to dance, but this song is lame," Curly says.

You nod. "I don't like this song."

Right now, you don't like any slow song. The adrenaline has worn off. You're aware again that you're a girl with an MIA boyfriend at a party full of girls who all have guys to cling to. Your shoulders sag. You wish you'd thought to have Curly drive you home while Art's car still had air in its tires.

You see headlights outside. Brakes screech, the headlights go off, and car doors slam. There are voices- Two-Bit's among them. He's laughing. Tim is saying something that's making him laugh.

"He can't do this to you."

You barely hear Curly when he says it. You feel it, though, when he wraps his fingers around your hand.

He tugs on your hand and turns you towards him. He leans in and kisses you just as you're hearing the first footsteps thud on the porch. It's a soft kiss. It's gentle. It doesn't set off alarms or the inclination in you to fight it off. You almost don't realize it's happening until you feel his grip tighten on your arm.

You pull back and try to look down at the floor. You ought to tell him to go to hell, but you're dazed and can only think to say, "You learn that in the reformatory?"

"Yeah, smart ass," he says, grinning against your cheekbone. "You learn it in the girl's home?"

He slips his hand around the back of your neck and pulls your face to his again. This time, there's enough of a grip that a person just walking into the room might think he was holding you against your will. When your boyfriend sees you, he'll blame Curly. He might not even notice that you're returning the kiss.


	26. Chapter 26

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Your eyes open and you focus fast when your body is yanked away from Curly's. You see Tim put himself between his little brother and Two-Bit just before you get spun around.

You're facing Two-Bit now. Everyone's chest seems to be heaving, but not all for the same reasons. If no one in Buck's noticed you and Curly kissing, they're all tuned in now for the fight they're expecting to happen.

Before you can look up at Two-Bit's face, you see his chest. His t-shirt is soaked with blood. It's fresh and still bright red. You reach out to touch the stain on his shirt and then look up at him, terrified.

"Don't worry. It ain't mine," he says. His eyes dart up and down, back and forth between you and Curly. Two-Bit is scary when he's angry, and he can go from goofy to blind rage so fast. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes are hard right now. In the next second, he might crack a joke or he might crack Curly's head open against the wall.

"What happened?" You ask him.

"You tell me," he says.

"We slashed their tires," you offer.

He says, "Yes, you did."

Just like that, the crowd around you begins to back off, already bored. Two-Bit blinks. He seems confused. He steps away from you and chews on his lip for a beat. He looks beyond you and says, "So where does this put us, Shepard?"

"I don't know," Curly says.

"You brother, you dumb little fuck. I got nothing to say to you."

"Don't put us anywhere different than where we were five minutes ago," Tim tells him. "She's your problem. Curly's mine. You and me deal with our own problems, and then get back to what we were doing before."

The blood on Two-Bit's shirt is like a Rorschach ink blot. You can't stop looking at it. You try to imagine what kind of picture it's depicting. It seems to have fingers and maybe wings. Beyond that, you can't put a name to it. It's nonsensical.

You ask Two-Bit, "What were you guys doing before?"

"Don't worry about it," He says.

"I'm worried," you tell him.

"Shut up and don't worry about it." His voice is so quiet. If he had shouted it at you, you would have been pissed and shouted back. His soft voice shames you.

For the first time, you look back at Tim and Curly.

"Good advice, kid," Tim says. He isn't looking at you. He's keeping an eye on Two-Bit and an arm stretched still ready to defend Curly.

Curly peeks out from behind Tim. You and he both know that- if Two-Bit doesn't lay him out- Tim is going to.

Two-Bit's voice is still low when he speaks to Tim. There's an agreement between them- something deeper than you know the details of. Tim told you that he and Darry had an understanding. You still don't know what that is. Now, he and Two-Bit seem to have an understanding of their own. Two-Bit isn't asking permission when he says:

"Okay, Shepard. One shot."

"Fine, then." Tim sounds bored, like the rest of the Buck's crowd.

He steps to the side, leaving Curly exposed. In that same instant, Two-Bit moves around you. He hits Curly hard. There is a sickening crack- something breaks. You aren't able to survey the damage before Two-Bit has you by the arm yanking you towards the door. You go without a fight. You don't want to look back and see.

He opens the driver's side door of his car and shoves you inside. You scurry over to the passenger side and back up against the door. You're not sure if you're more afraid to have him or you drive. It doesn't matter. He's already decided it's going to be him.

He guns the engine and peels away to the curb. He says nothing to you for a couple of blocks. Then he reaches inside of his jacket and pulls something out of his pocket. He flings it at you without looking away from the street.

You pick it up. It's a locket in the shape of a butterfly. The wings are a web of silvery wire. You've never owned anything so girly.

"Thank you," you whisper.

He grumbles, "Don't mention it."

"It's pretty."

"I stole it," he says. He's trying to diminish its meaning, but coming from Two-Bit it makes it all the more sweet. He didn't buy it like a normal person- he risked something to get it.

"Two-Bit, I'm sorry."

He doesn't say anything. He pulls a cigarette out of the pack on the seat between you and places it between his lips. Instead of lighting it, he takes it out again. He hits the steering wheel with the open palm of his hand.

"You know, I can handle you making a fool of me in front of everyone at Buck's- that place is full of assholes. Not like I care what they think. What I don't get, Marina, is why you let it start in the first place. I love you. I've loved you since we were kids. I waited around and kept it to myself until I thought you were old enough that I wouldn't look like a creep. And I think I knew when I asked you out that you didn't feel it, but you went ahead and said 'yes' anyway. Why'd you do that, Marina? You ain't Sandy and I ain't Sodapop. I don't bounce back like he does."

You glare at the dashboard. "I ain't like Sandy. How am I like Sandy?"

"Are you kidding me? I know what happened there. Shit, I think Soda's the only one in creation who don't. Everyone knows she went to Steve to get her cherry popped, and he was drunk enough to oblige. Christ, when did girls get like this? When did you all start trying to collect notches on your belts? You don't even have belts. When did all the girls turn into guys?"

You have a reply for that. You have a tirade about double standards and how the guys don't exactly seem to be turning any action down. Instead, you ask him:

"What happened tonight, Two-Bit? You're covered in blood."

"I told you not to worry about it."

"You told me to shut up, you asshole, and I am worried about it. What did Tim need your help with- an emergency appendectomy?"

"Nobody got killed, alright? The less you know the better. I ditched you at Buck's. I suppose I at least owe you as much as to protect you from that."

You look up and out the window. You're at the edge of your own neighborhood. You hate it. It's dark and jagged. The uneven fences and teetering sheds look like shards of broken glass in the dark.

You throw Two-Bit's locket back at him.

"Let me out. I want to walk."

"How many times do I need to tell you to shut up in one night?"

"Let me out and you won't have to tell me again," you say.

Two-Bit jerks the steering wheel and the tires grind against the curb. The car stops and you open the door.

"See you in school," he mumbles. Before you can scream an "are you fucking kidding me?" in reply, he puts his foot down and the car screeches away.

* * *

><p>There is no one in the living room, but the reading lamp is lit. It glows behind your father's chair. You used to go there as a kid when you had nightmares. When you got older, you'd lean over the back and beg him to let you do this and that. He'd give you all manner of crap, but he always gave in.<p>

You stand looking at the chair for you don't know how long, and then you kick it. It slides back and knocks over the lamp. That shatters. You kick the chair again. You pick up a book from the window sill and throw it at the chair. You're gearing up to kick the lamp when a pair of arms grabs you around the middle and picks you up off the ground.

"Hold on, hold on," Darry whispers in your ear until you quit fighting him. "What are you doing to my chair?"

"It ain't your chair, it's Dad's," you choke.

"Alright, baby, alright. What are you doing to _the_ chair? We can't afford to lose anymore furniture in here?"

"I screwed it up," you say in a hoarse whisper. "I screwed it all up with Two-Bit."

Darry sets you back down on the ground, but doesn't release you from his grasp.

"I can't believe you didn't have help with that, kiddo. I'd say 'I told you so', but I can't remember if I ever said that outright. Meant to tell you…"

He loosens up and you turn to look up at him. He looks like your father. The knowing grin is there. Ponyboy thinks Darry is devoid of warmth, but it's there in his grin rather than his eyes. Darry wouldn't give you shit about something if he hadn't made a similar mistake himself. You wonder who his mistake was.

You blink back tears. You want to tell him you slept with Two-Bit, but he has that figured out. You don't want to put him in the position of having to reply to that confession.

"Darry, Two-Bit's got blood all over him. He took off with Tim and…"

Darry raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to one side. You've just admitted that you weren't at any movie.

You continue anyway: "When they came back, he was covered in blood. He wouldn't tell me…he just said it wasn't his. What's going on?"

Darry pushes his hair back. He lets you go and looks at the disaster around the room. He kicks some broken glass from the lamp out of his pathway to the chair.

"We're losing him, I think," he says. "We're losing Two-Bit. Maybe it was going to happen anyway. Maybe Dally and Johnny just kicked it into motion. We're not a real gang, and face it- Two-Bit likes excitement. He's looking for some way he can still be a cowboy."

"He's trying to get in with the Shepard gang?"

Darry nods. "That's my best guess. Tim talked to me about it before you came back. Wanted to see if all of us wanted in. I told him to take a long walk. In fact, I told him I'd break his neck myself if he made a play for Pony or Soda. Or you, for that matter. Steve…well, Steve has that crazy girlfriend of his keeping him in line. I guess Tim got to Two-Bit."

"But Two-Bit's always making fun of Tim. Everything you just said- he said that to me about Tim."

"Two-Bit cares for you. I won't deny that. He always has. You'll have a devil of a time bleeding out of him what's really going on with him and those guys. Good thing you have me to do that for you."

Darry winks, but he looks sad all the same.

"If I ask you what we're going to do," you say, "are you going to tell me there's nothing we can do?"

"There's nothing we can do, baby. You and Soda and Pony are my priority. When the shit hits the fan, you're the only things I care about."

Thoughts run wild in your head. Maybe you can offer up a deal: you'll be Two-Bit's girl and never look back if he'll quit the Shepard gang. Or maybe it isn't really that bad. Maybe Darry's just trying to scare you. What could Tim possibly be up to that's so sinister? There's no beef with the Socs. By themselves, Aronson, Art, and Jimmy will fizzle out and disappear. Everything will be alright.

Darry tells you, "Go to bed, Valentine. It's late."

You nod. When you take a look around the living room, Darry tells you he'll clean it up. You nod again, staring at nothing, and shuffle towards your room. The bathroom door opens a crack when you walk by. Ponyboy has been hiding out, listening.

"What happened?" He asks, following you into your doorless room. You both sit down on the floor against your bed.

"I kissed Curly Shepard. Or he kissed me."

"Why?"

"I don't know. We were both mad at Two-Bit for leaving with Tim."

"Is Two-Bit okay?"

You shake your head. "No. He's not."

"What about Curly?"

"He'll survive. Shit, Ponyboy, I don't want to go back to school on Monday."

"You have to, 'Rina. United Curtis Front, remember? We'll all go together."

You nod in the dark. Ponyboy knocks elbows with you before he stands up and goes back to his own room. In the living room, Darry is sweeping up glass. He pulls the chair back in to place and then he goes to bed. The house is silent. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling sick.

You hate Curly Shepard, you decide, almost as much as you hate yourself. You hate that you're even thinking about Curly. He started this. If it hadn't been for him, you'd still be in the dark about Two-Bit. You'd probably be in the dark somewhere with Two-Bit. You'd be going along with it without really knowing what you were being complacent in.

You wouldn't be stricken with the feeling in your gut of wondering what's next. You wouldn't be wondering if Curly is going to be part of it.


	27. Chapter 27

SE Hinton still owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Monday morning-

"Where the hell is Two-Bit?" Sodapop is bouncing up and down on the couch, facing out the window.

You say to him, "I don't think he's coming."

"He's got to be coming. It's his week to drive. Maybe his car didn't start. We should call over there."

You step in front of the phone. You shake your head at Soda.

"He ain't coming."

"Well, what the hell?" Soda says. Darry has already left for work. Steve has most likely left for school himself. Two-Bit was supposed to give you and your brothers a ride.

Ponyboy comes in from the kitchen. Already aware of what happened with you and Two-Bit, he has accepted his fate. His feet are bare and he's carrying a cup of coffee. He's prepared to not make it to school.

You and Ponyboy sit down on the couch on either side of Soda. He turns around and sits.

"What's going on?" He asks, and then, "What'd you do, Marina?"

"She made out with Curly Shepard," Pony tells him.

"Curly Shepard kissed me," you snap. "I didn't make out with him."

"Ew," Soda says. "Ew either way. So you and Two-Bit broke up?"

"Try to contain your mirth," you say.

"What's mirth?" He asks. "Don't you have that at Christmastime?"

You leave that one to Ponyboy. You get up from the couch to get yourself some coffee. You yell to Soda does he want some. He replies that yes, he would be overcome with mirth if you'd bring him a cup. You smile in spite of yourself.

"Darry will be home at lunch," You tell them when you return from the kitchen. "He can give us a ride then. We'll only miss half a day."

"Sounds good to me. I'm going back to bed," Ponyboy says. He gets up and leaves you and Soda alone.

The two of you sit on the sofa for a while drinking your coffee. Finally, he says:

"I'm sorry about you and Two-Bit."

"Me too. He told me- hell, you told me- that I wasn't ever really into it. I shouldn't have let it go this far."

Soda wrinkles his nose. "How far did it go?"

"Pretty far. Go ahead, say it…"

"Ew," he says.

"Soda, have you ever…?"

He grins, but he won't look at you. He grins down at the floor where the coffee table used to be.

"No. I'm just a little kid. I don't do that kind of stuff."

"So you and Sandy never did it?"

He shakes his head. "Nope. She wanted to, but I told her I respected her more than that. I wanted to get married first. Guess she showed me."

You nod and take a deep breath. You've done so many other things you aren't proud of- you figure you might as well own up to all of it.

"Soda, you ever hear from Sandy?" You ask. Maybe there were other letters. Maybe the one you caught was just one of many and he's read the rest. Your heart sinks when Soda shakes his head.

"Nope. I guess Evie has. Not me, though. She left a letter for me when she left town, but nothing since."

"Yeah, she did," you tell him.

You stand up. You're not sure if your intent is to fetch the letter or to get ready to run.

Soda leans forward. He furrows his brow at you.

"She sent a letter like a month ago," You tell him. "I was mad at her, so I never gave it to you. You still want it?"

He doesn't say anything. He looks down at the floor and then runs his fingers through his hair. It's torture. This is the worst thing you've done, by far. Nothing is worse that the thought of hurting Soda except maybe for the thought of him hating you for it.

He sits back again and takes a sip of his coffee.

"No," he says. "Just get rid of it. I'm done. I don't care."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Everyone thinks I don't know what happened, but I do. I know who with and it hurt me, but I don't care anymore. I just don't want any more fighting. If everyone thinks I don't see and I'm just stupid, I don't care. Hell, everyone thinks I'm stupid anyway. I just don't want to lose anyone else. I just want a little peace."

You nod. "I'll get rid of it, then."

He smiles at you and winks. "Don't you go reading it either. Burn it or something."

"It's trash day. I'll make sure it gets to the curb. I'm sorry, Soda."

"I know. A lot of people are sorry for a lot of shit around here. Let's just get over it and move on."

The phone rings. You go to answer it, but call back to him:

"You're not stupid, Soda. You know you're the only one of us with any damned sense."

"Don't let it get around," He tells you.

You pick up the phone. It's Darry.

"School called," he says. "What am I supposed to tell them?

"We didn't have a ride. We'll go at noon if you come home and take us."

"Or you could get your butts on the next bus. If I was you, that's what I'd be doing."

You roll your eyes. "Ponyboy went back to bed."

"Then wake Ponyboy up," he says and hangs up. You look across the room at Sodapop. He's already on his feet. He shakes his head.

"The big guy? I'll go get Ponyboy. Stupid public transportation…"

* * *

><p>"So are you a free agent now?"<p>

Hank Aronson is standing over you in the biology and astronomy section, blocking your path to the check-out desk.

You look around at all the books.

"Is the end of days here or something?"

"What?" He asks.

"Why are _you_ in the library?"

He grins. "Love that smart little mouth. I came to see you, Little Miss Curtis. Ain't you flattered?"

"Giddy like a little school girl."

"You are a schoolgirl. A pretty little schoolgirl with a smart, little mouth- my favorite kind. That's why I came to see you."

You look around for Marla. She's still ignoring you, but you can't believe she'd leave you to Aronson's mercy if you really needed help. You can't see her, but you can hear her shelving. The sound of books scraping off the cart and finding their way to shelves is slow and deliberate. She's close by and listening. You feel a little less nervous.

"Can I help you find something?" You ask Aronson. "Like a book?"

"Nope. I told you- I'm here to see you." He leans against the shelf and crosses his arms over his chest. You're trapped. You know this stance. He looks relaxed and off his guard, but you know his type. If he so much as sees your eyes dart to the door, he'll be on the balls of his feet. His hand will be on the blade in his back pocket. You look him in the eye.

"What do you need then?"

"You're agreeable this morning. You're not trying to bullshit me now, are you?"

"I'm trying to do whatever I have to get you to leave."

"Whatever you have to, huh? That's even more than I'd hoped for." He widens his eyes, pretending to be impressed. "I just need you to send a message to Timmy and your little boyfriend…or former boyfriend or whatever he is."

"And that message is?"

"Just a friendly reminder. Tell Tim that I know, and that what I know there's others who would be happy to possess that kind of knowledge."

You can't help but smirk at him. He's trying to sound sly, but it's probably those most disorganized sentence you've ever heard.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing. Done deal. I'll tell Tim that you know what he knows and that 'they' could know if you wanted them to know it. Right?"

He nods and stands upright again. He looks you over, and then he reaches out to touch your face. He cups your chin in his fingers. You're sure it's on purpose that the gesture makes his sleeve shrink away from the bandage on his wrist where you stabbed him.

He sees you look towards the bandage. He tips your chin up to make you look at him.

"An apology wouldn't hurt either," he says.

"Then you'd better get started. You've got a hell of a lot of apologize to me for."

He nods, grinning, like he saw that coming.

"Come on, baby. Can I get you to kiss it and make it all better?"

"You aren't afraid I might try to bite you instead?"

Aronson shakes his head. "You wouldn't do that, baby. You like me. We're buddies. I keep your life exciting, and I know you like excitement. It's killing you to not know what Tim and Mathews are up to. I could tell you all about it if you wanted to take a ride or something."

He's right- it is killing you. There's something, too, about all this bullshitting back and forth that turns you on. It isn't Aronson exactly. He's handsome enough, but it's more the sparring back and forth with him. You know that he could have pinned against the wall in a second, but that- for some reason- he hasn't yet. You'd be terrified of him out on the street, but you feel just safe enough in the library to mess with him.

You jerk your chin out of his grasp.

"As tempting as that is, I think I'm going to have to pass. You think you're so exciting, but frankly I'd rather shelve books." And you push past him because you know exactly what he'll do.

Aronson catches your arm and pulls you back towards the window. He shakes you a little, encouraging you to turn and look out at the parking lot.

"You see his car? You see your boyfriend's car?"

You see it. You nod.

"Why don't you ask him what's in the trunk?"

"Well, since he's not my boyfriend anymore, it's really not any of my business."

"You see my car?" He asks. You look again. You see Aronson's car. It's parked at the edge of the lot, where the late people end up. Two-Bit's car is several rows in. He was on time today.

"Yeah," You say to Aronson. There is no shelving sound now. Marla is tuned in and ready.

"If you want to know, that's where I'll be at lunch. You'd better be there if you want to talk. I think I'll be taking the rest of the day off." He lets you go with a shove.

"You're full of shit," You tell him. "And I ain't meeting you anywhere."

He winks at you and turns away. As he's walking towards the end of the line of shelves, he tells you:

"Keep telling yourself that. If you ain't interested, your dumbass brother will be. He's just full of curiousity, that one. I bet he'd meet up if I asked him. I bet the little guy would, too. The one with the weird name…well, all your brothers have weird names. What's up with that?"

Aronson doesn't wait for an answer. He strolls out of the library with swagger of someone who knows he's already won.

When the door shuts behind him, Marla darts from around the corner.

"Are you alright?" She whispers. "I'll call the cops. They can meet him at lunchtime."

You shake your head. "No, I don't know what Two-Bit's got in his trunk. Aronson already said he'd give up Two-Bit and Tim."

"What if he's full of it? There's probably nothing in Two-Bit's trunk. He's just trying to get you down there to…I don't know…take advantage of you to get back at you for…"

You hate the term 'take advantage of'. It's terminology for people who think they're too good to say the real words- like Colleen and everyone else who thinks they can protect you

"Do not call the cops," you tell Marla. "Do not tell anybody. You let me decide who to tell."

"Who then?" She asks.

"Tim's little brother is back." You haven't seen him, but you've heard that Curly came to school today. If he's made it through first hour he'll probably be hanging out with Ponyboy at passing time. "He's got to know what they're up to. If Curly says there's nothing in the trunk, then we'll call the cops, but I'm not going to give up Two-Bit if there's really something there."

Marla stands back and purses her lips. "If you go down there at noon, I'm calling. I don't give a damn what happens to Two-Bit and Tim, Marina, but I'm not going to stand by and let anything happen to you."

"Just let me try Curly first," you tell her. "Curly will know."

That's a lie, of course. The likelihood that Tim is telling Curly nothing is pretty good at this point. Curly got the tires slashed like he was supposed to, but he also went and caused a stir with Tim's newest recruit.

An idea makes the heat crawl up your neck and into your face: Curly probably thinks he's competing with Two-Bit- not for you, but for his place in Tim's gang. The little sonofabitch used you. He used you to start a rift between Tim and Two-Bit.

Now you can't wait to find Curly Shepard.


	28. Chapter 28

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Before you can find Curly, you run into Two-Bit. Without looking at you, he hooks your arm in his and says, "Walk with me."

You stumble backwards with him for a few steps before you get turned around.

"What the hell is going on, Two-Bit?" You say.

"What with?" He shrugs. "I just wanted to tell you I was sorry about Friday night. I'm sorry that I didn't pick you guys up this morning, too. I just drove around for a while- with that necklace sitting in the front seat- and I got to thinking. It was my fault. That place is crazy. Everybody gets a little crazy at Buck's on a Friday. It ain't Friday now and we ain't at Buck's."

"What's in your trunk?"

He doesn't even blink.

"Spare tire, a jack, one of them old, itchy Army blankets."

"Bullshit. You never have any of that stuff. Last time you blew a tire you had to call Sodapop."

"Because I stripped a bolt. I had 'er jacked up when he got there. You can ask him."

The bell rings. The hall is nearly empty. You're almost to auditorium where the entrance to the bell tower is. You aren't any more excited, right now, to be alone with Two-Bit than you were to be alone with Aronson.

You tell Two-Bit, "I just had a really creepy encounter with Aronson. He suggested I ask you what's in the trunk."

Two-Bit frowns. He stops walking and drops your arm. He runs his thumb over his eyebrow. You can't tell if he's about to lie to you or not.

"Did he really? Goddamn him. He does not know when to leave well enough alone. If he don't leave you alone, he's going to become one of the things in my trunk."

"What else is in there, Two-Bit?"

"Baby," he says. He sighs and reaches up to touch your face. Then he lets his hand drop, rolls his eyes, and again takes you by the arm. "Just come on. Let's go somewhere and talk."

"Fine, then. Let's go to your car."

"The bell rang. We can't get caught in the parking lot now."

He's right, and you both know it. He takes your hand in his and continues on his path to the down the steps towards the auditorium. You follow along behind him, looking wildly around for a way out. You see it at the bottom of the steps, fixed to the wall. You take a page from Dally's book and pull the fire alarm.

The sound is deafening. It echoes in the empty hall. It seems to bounce off the lockers. Two-Bit turns to you. He's pissed off and rolling his eyes, but he can't help smiling just a little.

"Seriously, Marina?" He shouts over the alarm and the noise from the other students starting to spill out into the hall.

You shout, "What? I can't hear you!" at him.

He mouths a "whatever" back. He doesn't even try to say it out loud. He picks up your hand again and yanks you back towards the main doors.

You're among the first outside. Once down the steps and around the corner of some shrubbery, he stops, snaps you close to him and kisses you. You try to wiggle away. You wonder who's watching- if this is a show meant for someone else. You can't get away, though, and it feels good. You give yourself up to the kiss.

Two-Bit releases you and reaches into his jacket pocket.

"Here. You forgot this," he says. He offers you the butterfly locket. You look at it and then up at him again. Your eyes fill up with tears. Two-Bit misunderstands the reason why.

"It's okay, baby. Just go on and take it."

You tell him, "I don't want to be with you if you're joining up with the Shepard gang."

Up goes that eyebrow.

"I guess that means you aren't ditching me for Curly."

"Damnit, Two-Bit, I was never ditching you for Curly. You and Tim left me and Curly. I went with him because I didn't want to be stuck sitting alone at Buck's like an asshole. Curly kissed me and he probably did it to get a rise out of you. He was probably trying to drive a wedge between you and Tim."

Two-Bit grins and shakes his head. "Somehow I never pegged Curly for being that much of a schemer. He's more of the emotional sort. Just goes with what he's feeling at the moment."

You put your hands on your hips. You can feel it coming. You've known Two-Bit too long. He's going to make a joke out this somehow. He won't be able to restrain himself. Sure enough:

"And we all know what Curly was feeling at that moment, don't we?" He says. "It's what I should've been feeling up, but I wasn't because I took off with Tim. I told you I was sorry, and I am."

"So tell me what's in the trunk."

"I told you...Holy Christ, just come on if you want to know so bad."

He pushes the locket at you again and this time you take it. When you put it in your pocket instead of around your neck, he rolls his eyes at your stubbornness. He takes your hand again and leads you towards the parking lot.

You get about half way across the lot. You and Two-Bit see them at the same time: Art Baker and Aronson sitting on the hood of Two-Bit's Plymouth.

"Where's the other one?" You ask.

"Jimmy? I suspect he's taking the day to convalesce. He had a rough night Friday. That's where the blood came from, by the way, Agatha Christie. I broke his nose and he bled all the fuck over me. You know how nosebleeds are."

"You're full of shit," You mumble to him. "Did you break his nose and then roll around in it? You were covered in blood."

"Maybe I did. Just got caught up in the moment. Do you really want to argue about this now?"

"Yes," you hiss at him. "You can't lie to me, Two-Bit. I won't put up with it, and you suck at it anyway."

"Fine. Deal. As long as I don't have to deal with you fooling around on me anymore. You sure don't suck at fooling around, honey. I'd prefer to not have to share you, if you don't mind. Now smile and be nice. Let me handle these dumbasses."

The two of you stop at the front of Two-Bit's car. Art and Aronson stand up. Aronson is shaking his head at the ground.

"Morning," Two-Bit says.

"It's a little nippy out here," Aronson replies. "What brought you two out in such a hurry?"

"Well, apparently, the school is on fire," Two-Bit tells him.

"Really?"

Two-Bit grins. "Either that or some delinquent pulled the alarm."

"Kids these days," Art says. He so rarely speaks that you find yourself cocking your head up to look at him.

"I'm sure y'all are in a hurry," Aronson says. He looks you up and down and then back at Two-Bit. "I sure would be if I was you. Before you go, though, Mathews, how's about you pop the trunk for me? I just want to see it, and I know she does."

"Aronson, I'll thank you not make creepy inferences about my girl here. No, I will not be popping the trunk. We all know what a spare tire looks like. It's black, it's round, it says Firestone on the side…"

Aronson swings. He hits Two-Bit square in the jaw. He'd already had his blade clenched in his hand. He flips it open when Two-Bit falls. You suck your breathe in and step back. You trip up against the curb and fall backwards yourself. Before you hit the ground, though, a pair of hands grabs you and puts you upright again. You look back towards your grinning savior.

"Fancy meeting you here," Soda says. He winks at you. Steve steps up next to you.

"How did you know?"

"Marla came looking for me. Said you had a little trouble with this asshole this morning. Said to keep an eye out for anything strange."

"And we thought the fire drill felt a little strange," Steve says. "For as many times as Dal made us go through it, you'd think we'd be desensitized."

Ponyboy is standing behind Steve. Curly Shepard is there too. He looks annoyed, possibly dejected. His eyes look back and forth between you and Two-Bit. He shrugs. You glare at him and turn away.

"Fine, two against four," Aronson says. "I guess that puts an end to this for now."

Steve grins. "Two against five, really. Thought you'd know better by now than to count Marina out."

"Ask him what's in the trunk," Aronson says for what must be the fiftieth time. He pokes Art in the arm and the two of them stalk away towards Aronson's car.

You all stand and watch them until the car peels out of the parking lot and disappears down the street. Behind you, the bell rings inside the school. The rest of the students start back into the building. Two-Bit shrugs and turns around.

"Well, I guess that's that."

Steve shakes his head.

"Pop the trunk, Mathews."

"Come on, Stevie. Are you taking that guy seriously?"

"You should be flattered, Two-Bit. I'm taking _you_ seriously. Now pop it or I'm going to do it."

Two-Bit rolls his eyes. He fishes his keys out of his pocket. The rest of you follow him around to the back of the car. He turns the key in the lock and you all lean in.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary to you, except maybe that Two-Bit does-indeed- have a functional spare tire. The army blanket is there and the jack. Some old pipes and a couple of empty brandy bottles. You exchanges glances with Ponyboy and he shrugs.

Steve says, "What's that?"

He gestures to the pipes. Even that doesn't make you nervous. Steve is paranoid and he likes to yank Two-Bit's chain. You start to get nervous when Curly, of all people, takes on an air of responsibility. He puts a hand on yours and Pony's shoulders.

"Come on," he says. "I can't be late or they'll call my PO. Y'all come in with me."

You shake your head and ask:

"What is it, Steve? What do you think it is?"

"That is a pipe bomb, Miss Marina," Steve says. Everyone takes a step back from the car except Steve and Two-Bit. "Can I pick it up, Mathews? I never seen one this close. I heard Shepard knew how to put one together. Learned it from one of them Brumly guys in jail. Huh, Curly- your brother make this one?"

You shrug your shoulder out from under Curly's grip.

"Ask Two-Bit," Curly says. "This ain't my car."

"Why is Tim making pipe bombs?" Soda asks.

"And why the hell are you driving around with them in your trunk?" You ask Two-Bit.

Two-Bit tells you, "I told you not to worry about it, baby. If you'd just come with me like I said, I'd have told you all…"

Soda interrupts him, "Wait a minute, asshole. You were going to drive my sister around with a bomb in your trunk?"

He shoves Two-Bit hard. Two-Bit isn't expecting it and the push sends him stumbling backwards. He catches himself on the bumper.

"No, that's exactly what I trying not to do," he says. "Why'd you think I didn't come to pick y'all up this morning?"

"Because you were driving around thinking about us," you grumble at him. "Thinking up an apology. Thinking up a way to bullshit me is more like it."

Two-Bit shakes his head. "That's not true, baby, that's…Christ, would the rest of you just go back to school so she and I can talk?"

"No!" Soda, Steve, and Ponyboy all answer him at the same time. Only Curly shows any inclination to get back inside.

You sigh.

"You know what?" You tell Two-Bit. "I don't want to know anymore. I'm going back in. Come on, Pony, Soda. They'll call Darry if we ain't in class."

No one says anything more. You walk away towards the school without looking at Two-Bit again. You hear the crunch of feet on the frozen grass. Ponyboy and Curly catch up to you before you reach the steps.

"Did you know?" You ask Curly.

He nods.

"When?" You ask him. "Did you know Friday night?"

"I had it figured out. I mean, I still don't know what it's for, but I knew that's what they were up to. Aronson and Jimmy made that one that Two-Bit's got. He and Timmy stole it from him. Tim can make a decent pipe bomb, but Jimmy's are better."

"Wow, what a skill," Ponyboy mumbles.

"How big is that one?" You ask Curly. "I mean, can it blow up the car? Level a city block? I know Jimmy isn't splitting atoms or anything…"

Curly can't help but grin. "Shit, Jimmy ain't doing much of anything for the next couple of weeks. Those two messed him up bad. I don't know…yeah, the car, sure. The gas tank would help that along. Just the bomb on its own? Maybe blow the door off a locker. Enough to get people's attention."

"Are you just giving an example or are they going to blow the door off of someone's locker?"

Curly turns to you. You're inside the foyer of the school now. You can't be seen from the outside so you feel sure he isn't doing anything to get a rise out of Two-Bit. He looks back and forth between you and Ponyboy. He shakes his head.

"I don't think it has anything to do with school, but I don't really know. Honest, Marina. I don't."

You nod.

"Well, someone does. Is that someone sleeping one off at Buck's this morning?"

Curly rolls his eyes. "Please, no, Marina. I do not want to go over there. Why do you think I'm here? Because I'm so reformed and wanting to take an active role in my education? Shit, I been doing everything I can since Friday to steer clear of Tim. He told me the only reason he wasn't beating on me for taking you along to slash those tires was because Two-Bit already broke two of my ribs. Tim said he was going wait until I was healed up and a worthy opponent again before he came after me."

"Wow," Pony says. "Suddenly, I feel so warm towards Darry."

"Yeah, no shit," Curly says, nodding.

You break in, "Then don't come along. Go back to school and take responsibility for your education. I ain't afraid of Tim."

"Oh, hell no," Ponyboy says. "Every time you've gone looking for him before, I haven't been around. God, nobody lets me in on anything. I'll go with you."

Curly hops on his toes and looks through the doors into the hall.

"Fucking Curtises," he grumbles. "Alright. Just…shit, alright…"

The three of you peer outside again. Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda are still arguing in the parking lot. Now Steve shoves Two-Bit's shoulder. Soda is gesturing to the trunk. Two-Bit is shaking his head. The discussion appears to have stalled.

The three of you exchange glances.

"They'll see us. We'll have to go out the back by the shop," Curly says.

"You're the expert." Ponyboy shrugs.

Curly grins. "Shit, I thought she was the expert. We in agreement, Marina? Out the back?"

"Lead the way," you tell him.

His grin widens. He winks at you. "I like that sound of that. Come on, let's go."


	29. Chapter 29

SE Hinton= Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

You're on the damned bus again. You're exhausted. Everything that happened back in the parking lot should be making your head spin. You should be wired. Instead, as soon as you get on the bus, you sit down next to Ponyboy and lay your head on his shoulder. Curly sits across the aisle. He avoids looking at you. Curly is wired.

"Remember when I told you I didn't know what I was doing?" You ask Pony. You're sure Curly can't hear you over the sounds of the bus.

Ponyboy smirks. "That's what I'm here for," he says. His tone is sarcastic. He doesn't anticipate being a whole lot of help.

You feel differently. "I'm glad you're here. You don't do stupid things like I do. Or like he does."

Curly looks up. Maybe he can hear you.

"It's not that I don't do stupid things," Ponyboy tells you. "It's just that I'm so well-versed in doing stupid things. I have plenty to offer whatever this is."

"You think I should be afraid of Two-Bit?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid of him now. I mean, I don't think he'd do anything to us on purpose. He ain't going to knock you around. Whatever he's into, though, he's gotten carried away with it."

You look over at Curly again to make sure his attention is diverted. It is. He's tapping his foot and reading the advertisements that line the bus.

You ask Ponyboy, "Do you think I cheated on Two-Bit? Was that cheating?"

"Yeah. I'd be pissed if you were my girl."

"How come you ain't pissed at him then?" You ask, meaning Curly.

"Who says I ain't? He's still my friend, though, and Two-Bit's my friend. I can let it blow over."

You sigh. "What about me?"

"You're my sister, so they better not do anything to hurt you. I couldn't let that blow over."

"What if I hurt Two-Bit?"

"You already have, but that's between you and Two-Bit. Whether or not it's worth putting it right, that's up to you and him."

You nod. You're sleepy. The ride to the stop closest to Buck's is a long one with about a million stops along the way. The bus rocks over the potholes. People get on and off. As more people get on, Curly hops across the aisle and sits on the other side of you. He and Ponyboy talk about things, but you don't really care what about.

* * *

><p>Buck's is quiet and freezing at 9:30 in the morning, just as you expected. Actually- more than you expected. It seems colder inside than outside. Your breath hangs in the air. No one is asleep in the living room; the three of you climb the stairs without any interference from Buck.<p>

The knob still isn't attached to Tim's door. He's asleep with his back to you under a pile of blankets. Curly hangs back when you enter the room. Ponyboy hangs back with him.

You stand over Tim for what seems like forever. The sun has changed position in the sky by the time you get up the nerve to touch his shoulder. The room is brighter, but not any warmer. You're sure your fingers are freezing. You touch him tentatively, expecting him to go through the ceiling.

He wakes with a start, but not a violent one. He turns over and smiles at you and it's not Tim at all. It's Ruby. You were right about the uniform making him look young and scared. In his tenement t-shirt he looks his age- Darry's age. His eyes are brown- almost black- and mischievous. He had bad skin as a kid, and his face is still pitted with scars. Still, he's handsome. He looks sweet, like the grin is all bravado. He could turn shy at the slightest hint of distain from you.

"What are you doing here?" You ask him.

"Ain't you happy to see me, darlin'?"

"Well, yeah, but this is Tim's room. I thought…I thought you were…"

"Dead? No, darlin', I'm doing alright. I didn't go. I didn't have to. Found someone else to trade tickets with."

You squint at him in the weird sunlight. "You got someone else to go to Vietnam for you?"

"Yeah, and I got to come to Tulsa."

You look around for Tim, but you and Ruby are the only ones in the room.

"It wasn't Tim, was it? You didn't get Tim sent to Vietnam, did you?"

"Tim? No, his name wasn't Tim. It was some goofy name. I never heard of any such name. Of course, where I'm from half of everybody's a junior. You can walk into a room and yell, "Junior!" and half the room turns around and looks at you. And the other half's called Sonny. Back home, everybody calls me Junior…" He rambles on. He's sitting up in the bed now. He's taken ahold of your arm and sat you down next to him. His hand is warm. You can feel his fingers through your coat.

You stop him in mid-sentence before he can tell you his name- who he's a junior of.

"Who was it? Who did you get sent?"

He shakes his head. He doesn't want to tell you. He wants to tell you about something else. He wants to tell you about him. He's the one who's here, after all. No one else matters.

"What?" He says. "I don't know. Like I said, it was a goofy name. Sodapop or something."

Your eyes widen. You jerk away from him.

"No, no. Not Sodapop. You can't send Soda!"

Ruby reaches for you again.

"You know him? Hey, darlin', where you going? What's wrong?"

You back away. The tears turn cold instantly when then spill over on to your cheeks. Ruby calls you back, tells you not to cry. You keep backing up, trying to get out of the room, but it feels like Tim's room just gets bigger and bigger behind you. You can see the doorway, but the hall is pitch black. Ponyboy and Curly aren't there. When you turn back to the bed again, Ruby is gone, too. You're all alone. You can see the door, but it's so cold that you can't make yourself run.

* * *

><p>The bus lurches to a stop. That and Curly's cussing about it wakes you up.<p>

"Rise and shine," Ponyboy says. He shrugs your head off his shoulder.

"I don't know how you can sleep," Curly grumbles. You all get on your feet and head towards the rear door. "Christ, you're just like Tim. Fucker sleeps before a rumble. You're both a couple of weirdoes."

He's pushing you ahead of him. You're not quite awake. The sun is warm once you get off the bus. You blink hard and try to shake the image of Ruby from your head.

"We should go back," You say to Ponyboy. "We should see if Soda's alright."

"Soda? What's wrong with Soda?"

You shake your head. "I don't know."

"We're here now," Ponyboy says. "We might as well get on with it."

He starts down the street without you. Curly dawdles.

"I'm fine with going back to check on Sodapop," He says.

Ponyboy keeps walking, making chicken noises at Curly.

Curly picks up a rock and chucks it at Pony's feet. He looks at you and frowns.

"You alright? You look like you seen the rapture coming."

"Maybe I have," you say, just to unnerve him all the more.

"Shit," he mumbles and shakes his head. The two of you start walking to catch up with Ponyboy. "You know I ain't going to be any good to you with my ribs busted."

"You weren't much good to me before," You tell him and then feel bad about it. You try winking at him to soften the blow.

"I'm just saying if Tim blows a gasket, I'm not moving my quickest today. I'll take whatever he's got to dish out. You and baby brother had better make a break for it."

You nod. He had the sweetest of intentions and you insulted him. How much lower can you possibly sink?

"I won't let you get beat up, Curly," You say. "I'm going to talk to Tim, not you. He ain't going to beat on me."

"He ain't going to tell you the truth either."

"He might."

Curly laughs. "You really think that, Marina? Tim ain't like your brothers. We don't all sit down around the table together at night and talk about who has what homework and whose turn it is to do dishes."

"He helped me out once before. He might do it again." You're thinking about Tim taking you across the bridge and telling you about Sylvia. You're pretty sure he was telling you the truth, but then he didn't actually take you to see her. You remember that he said Sylvia had called him on the phone, but that her daughter was pretty. Maybe he'd seen her daughter another time. Dally had to have known she had a daughter.

It clouds your head trying to think it all through. You and Curly catch up to Ponyboy and cross the street. Buck's is half a block away and Tim's car is parked out front.

"You don't have to go in," You tell Curly. "You neither."

"You neither," Ponyboy says.

You exhale, let your shoulders sink, and then straighten up again.

"Jesus, he's not the big bad wolf. There's three of us and one of him. What are we so afraid of?"

You're starting to get your bearings, but part of your head is still in another dimension. In your mind, the worst thing that could happen right now is that you'd go to wake up Tim and he wouldn't be Tim at all.

It's Tim in the bed, though, and he's not happy to see any of you. He starts a little at Curly, who takes a step back, and Tim laughs at him.

"We need to talk," You tell him.

"Uh oh," he mocks you. He leans around you to address Curly and Ponyboy. "Word of warning- just for future reference- when a girl tells you that she and you got to talk, run like hell."

"You going to run like hell from me, Tim? Spoken like a guy with a guilty conscience."

"Shit, I always got a guilty conscience, honey. What am I feeling guilty about on this fine morning? Christ, what time is it?"

Ponyboy tells him, "Not quite ten."

Tim shakes his head at you. "You're getting earlier and earlier, peanut. If we got to talk about anything, we got to talk about that."

"I'm not your honey and I'm not your peanut, Shepard. Quit calling me after food and let's go downstairs."

Tim raises his eyebrows at you. You turn around and herd Curly and Ponyboy out the door. You look back to make sure Tim is getting out of bed.

He winks at you and says, "Sure thing, cupcake."

You flip him off and he cackles, shaking his head. He thinks you're cute. You don't care anymore. You're not intimidated and you're not impressed. He's not an apparition. He's just another boy like Curly and Ponyboy. He's just bigger, is all.

* * *

><p><em>Let's all be thankful that Marina seems to have grown a pair. Thank you for all the hits and all the reviews. I'll see y'all after break.<em>


	30. Chapter 30

SE Hinton owns the Shepards and The Outsiders.

Woo hoo! Discernible plot!

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Curly and Ponyboy are sitting on the couch in Buck's living room. They've left a space for you, but you don't sit down.

Tim says in one flat, quick ramble, "Why ain't you in school if you were my kid sister I'd blah, blah, blah…" on his way to the kitchen. He returns with a cigarette between his lips and a beer in his hand. He smacks Curly on the back of the head as he crosses the room. He sits in the ratty chair by the window.

"You shouldn't sit with your back to the window," Curly mumbles.

"And you're the goddamned expert now," Tim says, but he looks over his shoulder anyway. He inches the chair out of the direct path of the light coming from outside.

You say, "A little paranoid, Tim? And special reason?"

"Well, you're here," he says. "That makes any day special. Yeah, I'm paranoid. One of these days your brother is going to kill me."

"Ah, he's harmless," You tell him. You smile and jerk your head towards Ponyboy. Tim rolls his eyes.

"So what do you want to talk about, Miss Marina?"

"The contents of Two-Bit's trunk."

It's barely visible, but it rattles him. There is a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. He tries to disguise it by taking a drag off of his cigarette, but you've already seen it.

"Yeah, I know," you say. "A spare tire, a jack, and an old, itchy army blanket. And a pipe bomb that you and Two-Bit stole from Jimmy while you were beating him up."

Tim raises his eyebrows. "Well, actually, we beat him up first and then we stole the pipe bomb. Damn, Curly, did you tell her all this? Try keeping your mouth shut long enough to draw breath. Jesus, the less any of you know the better. Let's just leave it at that."

"No," you say. "Two-Bit's our friend. He's my boyfriend. We want to know what you've got him into."

"He's still your boyfriend?" Tim asks. He grins and looks around you at Curly. "Did you know that Curly? Still want to throw yourself in front of the firing squad for this little broad?"

Unsure as you are whether or not you still want Two-Bit for a boyfriend, Tim's attempt to divert attention away from the pipe bomb pisses you off.

"You're playing games," you say to him. "Knock it off. What are you and Two-Bit going to do with a pipe bomb?"

Again, it's barely detectable, but being told to "knock it off" doesn't sit well with Tim. There's another twitch and maybe a flash in his eyes this time. Behind you, Curly squirms on the couch.

Tim reaches back and stubs out his cigarette on the window sill. He's not the first to have done it; the wooden sill is pock-marked with burns.

"Can you and me take a ride?" He ask you.

You and Ponyboy answer in unison, "No."

Tim laughs at Ponyboy. He stands up and says to you, "Can you and I speak privately? How about a game of pool?"

"You might as well spill it. I'm going to tell them whatever you tell me."

"No, you won't," he says. "Basement or upstairs?"

"Not upstairs," Ponyboy says. You know what he's afraid of, but you're thinking more about how cold the basement is going to be.

You gesture towards the stairs. Tim gives Ponyboy a triumphant smirk. When Curly makes to stand, he snaps his fingers at his little brother.

"I was getting a beer. Jesus," Curly grumbles.

"No, you ain't 'cause you're going back to school when she and I are finished talking. All of you nosey little fuckers are going back to school."

He gestures for you to lead the way. You climb the stairs and go to Tim's room. He closes the door behind you and then shakes his head at the hole where the knob should be. He waves his hand at the bed.

"Sit," he says. When you hesitate, he tells you, "Sit down. Christ, you're- what- eleven years old? I done some bad shit, honey, but I ain't _that_ kind of guy."

Tim knows how old you are. He's trying to distract you again- fluster you and goad you into an argument. You sit on the bed, anyway, and wait.

"Okay, here's how it goes," he begins, searching around for another cigarette. "I have a problem. It's a big problem, a rather explosive one, you might say. Your so-called boyfriend and me, we have a plan to eliminate this problem for a long, long time. We're going to steal its explosive device and do a little damage with it and then my problem with disappear into thin air. Get it?"

"No, that doesn't make any sense."

He looks up to the ceiling. He seems almost helpless for a moment. Then he pulls up a chair from across the room and sits down in front of you.

"Marina, I'm trying to look out for you…and for Heckle and Jekyll downstairs. Two-Bit and me are going to do something that's a little above and beyond the stuff we usually do, and shit…I don't want any of you little guys to know because I don't want you to be able to answer questions when it times come for the questioning to start. You're safer from the cops and Hank and Jimmy and Art if you don't know nothing."

"I've already seen the bomb, Tim. I know where it is, and I know how you got it. That's enough to implicate you and Two-Bit right there when the time comes for the questioning."

"Would you do that?"

"I might do it before you get a chance to do anything if I think it's going to keep Two-Bit out of trouble."

Tim shakes his head. He sits back, rubbing his head with his hand. He offers you his half-spent cigarette. You refuse it.

"I don't get it," he says. "What's with you and Two-Bit? Is this a guilt thing? I see this shit, you know. I know how girls are when they really like a guy, especially when they got a few drinks in 'em, and especially when they know that guy's ex is floating around nearby. I don't see any of that coming from you."

You shrug. "Maybe I'm just more restrained."

"Yeah, kissing my brother downstairs in front of God and everybody- that was a stunning show of restraint, honey."

"I was just mad."

"No, you weren't," he says. He smiles and sits back again. "I mean, I'm sure you were mad, but you liked it. You were into it. He melted you…which is scary, you know, that Curly would have that effect on anyone. Kind of turns my stomach, personally, but whatever turns your crank is fine by me."

"Thanks for your permission. I was waiting for that. Don't expect me to believe that me and Curly and Two-Bit mean jack shit to you, Shepard. You're just trying to shake me up. I get it, though- you're losing your grip on your dumb little gang. Jimmy builds a lovely pipe bomb, and he's probably done a little time for it. He's known for it with the cops. So, you and Two-Bit- who you've recruited to take Jimmy or Aronson's place- stole Jimmy's bomb and are going to blow something up with it so that Jimmy gets sent away. Probably Art and Aronson, too, since they're known to associate with him."

Tim grins. "Should've recruited you instead of Two-Bit, I guess. Okay, now you know. What are you going to do about it? And remember, I got a thing about not hitting girls, but I consider our little brothers downstairs to be fair game."

You hadn't really expected to get to this point with Tim. What to do once you got the straight story from him hadn't entered your head.

Instead, you ask him, "What are you going to blow up?"

"Ain't decided yet."

"I don't believe you. Are people going to get hurt?"

"How should I know? You think I'm some kind of wizard?"

"You seem pretty confident that Jimmy and them are going to get sent away. What if it doesn't work that way? Did you think that through, Wizard of Buck's?"

Tim enjoys the Wizard of Buck's title, but the amusement fades from his face fast. He pulls his pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his flannel shirt. He shakes out another smoke, but doesn't light it. He leans forward towards you again.

"Of course, I have," he says. "No one's going to get hurt."

"But you might get caught."

"We might. And if we do, now that you're all in the know, princess, you got to promise me something."

You frown at him. No way are you promising you won't tell. You aren't going straight to the cops, but you might go to Darry. Darry has no reign over Tim, but he might be able to rope in Two-Bit.

"What's that?" You ask Tim.

"If this all goes horribly wrong- and believe me, you'll know if it does- you got to promise me you'll look after my dumbshit little brother. I don't care how you do it; just keep him out of trouble. He'll do what you tell him. On his own, shit, he just don't think things through. Tie him up in your yard for all I care, but keep him out of trouble."

He's serious. All the bravado and the bullshit are gone. Tim is looking you straight in the eye and it makes you squirm. It's not so much the idea of being designated Curly's keeper, but the knowing that Tim wouldn't be asking you if he hasn't entertained possibility that his plan could go south.

You nod, more to get him to stop looking at you than anything else.

"Sure," You say. "Don't let anything happen to Two-Bit."

"Nothing's going to happen to Two-Bit that won't happen to me too," Tim says. He reaches out and you think he's going to put his hand on the back of your neck, like he did that day in your house. He lets it drop, though, and tells you instead, "Y'all go back to school now, and take those runts with you."

* * *

><p>Curly and Ponyboy begin asking you questions as soon as the three of you are out the door. You shake your head at the first few and then resort to shrugging. By the time you reach the end of the block, they give up. You all walk towards the bus stop in silence.<p>

You reach the bus stop sign and begin digging in your respective pockets for change.

"Fuck this," Curly grumbles. "I ain't going back to school."

"Yes, you are," you almost whisper.

"Who are you- my mom? The hell I am. I'm going downtown. Pony, you want to go shoot some pool?"

Ponyboy looks at you, maybe for permission.

"No, we're all going back," You tell them.

"Is that what Tim told you? Were those his orders? Shit, I'm so sick of doing whatever Tim says. He took you upstairs so he could look deep into your eyes and wrap you around his little finger…"

"You jealous, Curly?" You snap at him. "Because you're sure raising a whole lot of hell over it."

"Jealous of what? I could give a shit. What do I need with a trampy little broad like you anyways?"

Ponyboy stiffens next to you. He opens his mouth to let Curly have it, but you beat him to it:

"I meant are you jealous of me, asshole. You're jealous that Tim let me in on it and not you. You always imagined yourself being something special to Tim, and then he goes and spills the whole thing to a girl."

"Whatever," Curly says. "So whatever he told you, your big solution is to go back to school? When did that ever solve anything?"

You can't help but smile at that. You shake your head, trying to hide it.

Curly scowls and says, "What?"

"If we got back to school, we can talk to Two-Bit," you offer. This seems reasonable to Ponyboy. He holds out his hand to Curly, offering him bus fare.

Curly takes it, but says, "I don't need to talk to Two-Bit about anything."

"I'll talk to Two-Bit. Y'all can eat lunch," You tell him. "It ought to be almost that time when we get back."

The bus turns the corner and rumbles towards you. You push Curly ahead of you so that he has no choice by to get on. He stumbles into place and looks back at you. He smiles a little and shakes your head; you knew you'd have him with the promise of lunch, and he knows it too.

As you go to step on to the bus, Ponyboy lays his hand on your shoulder and hold you back.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"You're asking me?" You reply because you really don't know.


	31. Chapter 31

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

You sit next to Two-Bit, shoulder to shoulder, on the dusty floor of the bell tower. He's been tapping his fingers on his knees since you shrunk away from his attempted kiss and told him you had talked to Tim.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him. "It's too dangerous."

"Like we never done anything dangerous before? It was pretty dangerous for Johnny and Dally."

You shake your head. "That trouble found them. You're going in to this eyes wide open. Why do you want to be in Shepard's dumb gang anyway? What's wrong with just sticking around with us?"

"Who said I was joining Shepard's gang? Aronson and those assholes are as much of a danger to us as they are to Shepard. It's a collaborative effort to make the world a little safer for all of us, and when it's done, I go back to being what I was before."

"There are so many things wrong with that," You say.

"Like what?"

"Like first of all, is that what Tim's thinking? Because I get the distinct impression that Tim thinks you're signing up with him."

Two-Bit smiles. "It's a little more fluid than that, kid. No one's signing anything here. I'm helping Shepard out. I'm not forever at his beck-and-call."

"What if you get hurt? What if you go to jail?"

"I ain't going to get hurt, and I ain't going to jail."

"What if someone else gets hurt? I know you're going to blow something up, Two-Bit. I don't know what it is, but I know that people have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Ask Pony about that. The likelihood that someone could just be there…"

"Baby, for Christ sakes…alright, what do you want me to do?"

"Not this," you tell him. You know he's bullshitting you. He thinks asking the question alone will be enough to pacify you.

"So we all just spend the rest of our days getting jumped by Aronson and jumping him in return…?"

"We're all going to have to graduate from high school and move on someday," You tell him. "And I thought you liked jumping guys like Aronson."

Two-Bit shakes his head. "He went too far. Jimmy stabbed Steve, and Aronson's got it in for you. I don't know why your brothers ain't more fired up about it, but I'm not going to let that slide. You're my girlfriend. I got a responsibility to make sure nothing happens to you."

"No, you don't," You say. You take the butterfly necklace out of your pocket. You pause to let it slip down on its chain, and you look at it for a moment.

Two-Bit sounds more irritated than anything else when he says, "ah, come on, kid."

You hold it out to him. He opens his hand and you let the locket drop. You stand up, dust yourself off, and say, "I got to go to class. You coming?"

"What do you think?" He says and you leave the bell tower without him.

* * *

><p>When the last bell rings, you let the force of the other students rushing to get out move you through the hall. You throw your books in your locker- you know it won't be any good to bring them home.<p>

You've never broken up with anyone before. This is the first time you've ever had anyone to break up with, and you had expected it would feel freeing, empowering. You don't feel like that at all. You feel lonely instead.

You pull your old Pendleton shirt of a coat on and head towards the doors alone. Just as you're reaching the main doors, you hear a voice calling to you:

"Marina! Hey, Marina, wait!"

You stop and turn around. Some other students jostle you. Marla appears in the hoard, glowing like some kind of religious vision. She catches up to you. Her brow is furrowed. She looks hopeful, but scared.

"I just wanted to know if you were okay."

You nod. "Yeah, I am. Thanks for telling Soda. They showed up just in time."

"You don't look okay."

"Thanks," you say and roll your eyes.

"I mean, you don't look…you just look sad."

You look around you. Before Johnny and Dally died, a Soc girl- even one like Marla- wouldn't have been caught dead talking to you in the hall. You missed the crisis and the de-escalation between the two fighting factions. Sometimes you don't remember that it's happened. Now, no one is even paying attention to you and Marla.

"How are you getting home?" She asks.

You shrug. Two-Bit was supposed to be your ride. You could take the bus, but you've had about enough of the bus for one day.

"You should come with me," Marla says. "Just come back to my house. You can have dinner."

The idea- however generous- makes your heart skip a beat. You don't like to imagine what Marla's parents will think of this girl with cropped Jean Seberg hair and a men's shirt for a coat in their spotless mansion.

"I'm supposed to be right home after school. My brother's keeping a pretty close eye on me."

"There's a phone at your house, Marina. Soda's called me before. Just call Darry when we get to my place."

As nervous as you are to go, you don't want to go home either. You don't want to deal with Two-Bit if he's there. You don't want to talk about the run-in with Aronson. Someone will tell Darry about you and Ponyboy skipping to go see Tim. You sure as hell don't want to deal with that.

You nod at Marla. "Okay. If you think your parents won't mind."

"They won't mind. You'll be doing me a favor. They think I don't have any friends. You can show them different."

To your surprise, her comment settles you down. This time around Marla wants to be with you. She isn't interested in pumping you for information about Soda. You follow her out the main doors, across the parking lot, and to the "old" Rambler that she inherited from her grandmother. It's newer than any car your parents or your brothers have ever owned, but still it will be replaced- Marla tells you- with something new when she graduates from high school.

She tells you all this without thinking. She isn't trying to brag or offend; she just doesn't know. What Marla does get is what it feels like to break up with a boy, and right now that's all the bridge you need.

* * *

><p>"My lord, little girl, don't you have a coat?"<p>

The housekeeper hustles you inside when Marla introduces you as her friend. You're not sure it's an introduction exactly. When you offer the housekeeper your hand to shake, she tries to take your coat instead. The two of you do an awkward dance. Finally, she takes your hand and rubs it between hers. She clicks her tongue at you and tells you that your hands are cold as ice.

You know she's doing a job, but you like her. She's like a mother. She has a kind face. She's black, and Tulsa has clung to its strict lines of segregation, defying the edict of Congress. You've hardly had the chance to associate with black people, and yet you suspect she and you might have more in common than you do with Marla. Maybe. You're not sure.

"Thank you, ma'am." You tell her when she finally gets your coat away from you. She smiles and shakes her head a little. It seems to amuse her that you call her "ma'am". To you, she's like any other adult and you wouldn't call her anything else.

"Edith, Marina's going to have dinner with us," Marla tells her. "We're going to go up to my room."

"I'll call you when dinner's ready," Edith says. "Do you girls want some cocoa?"

"Yes, please," Marla says.

You whisper, "thank you, ma'am" again. Edith nods and leaves you for the kitchen. Marla tugs at your sleeve.

"Come on," she says and pulls you towards the staircase.

You follow her, trying to be subtle about taking in every inch of her family's enormous and sparkling house. Your own house is surface-clean, but it's dark and starting to fall apart around the edges. Every inch of Marla's house looks like it was just pressed and released from a cookie cutter. Everything is crisp. Nothing is faded. You imagine that it's all made of porcelain and that it might break if your steps are too heavy.

Marla's room is somewhat more comfortable. She instructs you to sit on her bed, which is covered with a puffy comforter that you're afraid you might drown in. You sit anyway. You could swear you sink down about six inches. It calls to mind the Princess and the Pea story. You smile to yourself wondering if Marla is so delicate that she'd notice if you slipped a pea under her mattress. More and more, you suspect that she isn't.

She flounces down next to you.

"So what is it?" She asks. "I was scared to death by that guy in the library today. What is going on with him?"

"He's just an asshole. He likes to rile my brothers up by picking on me."

"What was he talking with all that stuff about Two-Bit's trunk?"

You shake your head. "Just blowing smoke. I think he just wanted to get us outside."

Marla narrows her eyes. She doesn't believe you. You should know better than to try and bullshit her, but you really don't want to go into go now.

You change the subject to something you figure Marla can handle: "I broke up with Two-Bit."

"Good," she replies and it shocks you.

"Don't feel too good."

"I'm sorry, but I think it's good in the long run. He's too old for you, Marina. And everybody knows what Two-Bit's like...with girls, I mean."

You raise your eyebrow, not unlike Two-Bit himself would. "How do you mean?"

"Well, I was around him when I was going with Sodapop, when you were gone. I think he was with a different girl every time I saw him, and that Kathy- jeez, she's been around the block."

You grin. "Around the block and back again." It's something your dad used to say.

Marla laughs. "Exactly. It just seems like it would end up being a pretty uneven relationship. Like you'd end up always taking care of him, picking up after him, trying to keep him on the straight and narrow."

God, she's about nailed it. This girl and Darry must share a brain.

Edith taps on the door and enters with a tray. You stand up, terrified to take a cup of cocoa on to Marla's princess bed. Marla remains seated. She curls her feet under her and motions for you to sit back down.

"You watch them tonight," she tells you. "I didn't come to that stuff about Two-Bit because I'm some kind of budding therapist. You watch my mom and dad- that's what my mom married in to. This is all her money. She'd spend every last dime entertaining his whims. I know she loves him. I love him, but I get sick and tired of watching her never have a life of her own. It all revolves around him. I mean, Jesus, it's 1966. We don't live in the dark ages. It's her money; she should do with it what she wants."

You frown at Marla and take a sip of cocoa to hide your discomfort.

"Sorry," Marla says. "I get a little carried away. It's not like I can say that stuff to just anyone. My mom will blow you away. She's beautiful, and she wrote a book. I'm serious- she went to college in Vermont somewhere. She wrote a book, but she never got it published. It just sits in a drawer in her room. She doesn't do anything with it. She just gave it up to be a society wife. It's such a waste."

"Are you going to go to college?" You ask her. You know the answer and it surprises you that Marla would think anything different was going to happen to her mother. Soc girls go to college to catch men. A lot of the Soc moms have degrees or at least partially-finished degrees. They never get jobs, though. They get husbands and become professional planners and organizers of their homes instead.

"Yes," Marla says. She's so sure when she says it. She's never questioned that she won't. "I want to go away from here. I don't ever want to come back. Are you going to go? God, you're so smart. You have to go to college."

"I don't know. It's Ponyboy who's really smart. Everything's kind of concentrated on him going. If one of us gets to go, it ought to be him."

Marla shakes her head: "Why not you, too? I mean, I know how things are for you. Ponyboy's going to work his way through school, right? Why can't you do that?"

"It's a long ways off," You tell her because you don't want to talk about it. You've thought of something else to ask her about. "Is there a Ryan family around here?"

Marla nods, sipping her cocoa. "Yeah, there's one about three blocks down. You want to know about them, get my parents started at dinner. They're like my parent's version of a spook story- if I'm not good, I'll turn out like the Ryan's daughter."

Edith taps on the door again and announces it's time for dinner. You follow Marla back down the stairs. You mind is racing trying to come up with ways to bring up Sylvia without being too obvious that their version of a spook story is your idea of a grand adventure.


	32. Chapter 32

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

The open doorway to the dining room glows in the dim hallway like the door to eternity. You pause behind Marla at the bottom of the stairs, struck by a flashback to a lesson in Home Ec about table service.

So many spoons and forks. Evie, ever the conspiracy theorist, had grumbled that the true purpose of the lesson was to make the Socs look smart and make the greaser girls feel inadequate. At Evie's house, Sandy's house and yours there is a knife, a fork, and a spoon on the table next to each plate. Socs, it would seem, require a different utensil for every bite of food they take. Now you wish you had paid more attention Home Ec.

"I forgot to call home," you whisper to Marla.

"Oh, yeah. The phone is over here."

She leads you down the hall and past the dining room. You get a quick glimpse of what lays ahead of you: a brightly lit table and millions of forks and spoons. Marla's parents are already seated. It doesn't take more than a second to assess that Marla's mother is indeed beautiful.

"You want me to wait?" Marla asks you when you get to the phone. She seems to sense that you don't want to enter that dining room alone. Maybe that's the polite thing to do, and you've forgotten that lesson from Home Ec as well. You nod.

It rings once and Darry picks up. He must be hovering above the phone like a viper ready to strike.

"Curtis," he says.

"It's me," you say and then pause to wait for the accusations.

He sounds worried when he asks, "Where are you?"

"I'm at Marla's house. She invited me for dinner. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. That's good. That's nice. Over on the south side?"

"Yeah." You're unsure about something in his voice. You're not convinced that nothing is wrong.

"That's good," he says again. "Do you need a ride home?"

"I don't know. I'll call if I do, I guess."

"Yep, call if you do. It's a school night, so…"

"I know. Home by nine. I'll call if I need a ride."

"Home by nine. Have a good time, baby." He hangs up, leaving you rattled. Maybe he knows about you and Two-Bit. Maybe he knows about you skipping or about your run-in with Aronson. Maybe he just always sounds that anxious and you never noticed it before.

You wonder what Tim and Two-Bit are doing. If something exploded on the North side would you feel the ground shake way over here?

You nod to Marla and say, "okay."

Marla's parents both stand up when you enter the dining room behind her. They introduce themselves as Greg and Celeste, which you know you will never call them. You feel like royalty and it unnerves you. When Marla introduces you, her father raises an eyebrow in a curious but not unfriendly way.

"Curtis? Why do I know Curtises?"

You pray that Marla will field this one. He should know Curtises because he once forbade your brother to date his daughter. He might also know Curtises because your other brother was an accessory to the murder of one of his neighbor's sons. You pause to ponder which is the lesser of two evils.

Marla's mother saves you though, "One of them was a big-shot football player, wasn't he? Is that one of your brothers? He graduated a while ago, I think."

"That's Darrel," You say. "Yeah, he was a quarterback maybe three years ago."

"Yes, you remember, Greg," she says and then says to you, "Greg loves football."

You smile and sit down next to Marla. Her dad begins to chat you up about your thoughts on football, of which you have none. You really only paid attention when Darry played. Greg seems to know enough about it, though, to carry on a conversation by himself.

You keep stealing glances at Marla's mother. She doesn't look a thing like Marla and yet she has that unearthly glimmer. She's taller, for one thing. There is nothing petite and doll-like about her. Her skin is darker, like she might do at least some of her own gardening. Her hair isn't done; she wears it down and loose. There is something loose about her all around. You noticed when she sat down that she folded one of her feet under herself on the chair.

The food is brought in. Marla's mother makes a cutting gesture with her finger across her throat.

"Alright, Greg, enough," she says and winks at you.

"What?" He says, but he's smiling at her. "Everyone likes football."

"Pray over the food, Greg," she tells him. The entire dinner continues like this. You might not have noticed it if Marla hadn't said what she did upstairs, but her mother definitely calls all the shots. They're friendly to one another- they appear to be joking a lot of the time- but Celeste is in control and Greg is her underling.

It takes you longer to eat than everyone else because you keep peeking at Marla to see which fork she's using. It's a relief when dessert is served. It's pie and only one fork is necessary to eat it.

Marla pokes you with her toe under the table and asks, "So how to do you know that Ryan girl, Marina?"

"Sort of a friend of a friend," you answer casually. You've been thinking about how you'd describe your relationship with Sylvia to them without sounding like you knew her too well. "Her boyfriend used to run around with my brothers."

"Her boyfriend?" Greg would sound hostile if his mouth wasn't full of pie.

"Not that one," Marla tells him. You realize her father thinks you mean the guy who got Sylvia pregnant. "A boy she met after she moved out."

"From what I understand, there have been plenty," Greg says.

Marla's mother interjects, "That poor girl. She did what she did and all, but I just can't imagine turning your own child out the way her parents did. Poor thing. She wasn't any older than you two. And then they took her baby back and not her. That story changed about a hundred times. They tried telling people it was theirs, but Maxine is a little old. Then they switched to telling people they'd just up and adopted a baby."

"At least they adopted it at all," Greg says. "They could've just sent that girl to a home and she'd have never seen her baby again."

"They did send her to a home, Greg," Marla's mother tells him. "They just took the baby themselves after she had it."

"Well, she's only come home just in the last few months. Doesn't sound like anyone was stopping her. Sounds to me like she wanted to live over there."

He makes it seem like your side of town is somewhere very far away. His comment doesn't offend you, exactly, but you get the feeling like he's getting close to doing that.

This isn't lost on Marla's mother.

"She didn't leave her child and move to Borneo, Greg. She was just on the other side of town. That's how Marina met her, right?"

You nod. "She cut my hair. That's what she did. She cut hair."

"I love your hair," Celeste says. She's changing the subject before her husband gets out of hand. You're disappointed that the conversation is going to move away from Sylvia, but you're sort of relieved too. "Was it real long when you cut it off or have you always worn it short?"

"It was about down to the middle of my back," You tell her. "My brother about died when I did it."

"I can imagine," Celeste continues. "Back in my day, it was make-up. If your parents saw you in make-up or if someone saw you out and about and told your parents…oh my God. Like a tube of lipstick was going to lead us straight to hell."

Marla's mother carries the conversation for the rest of dessert. Marla herself remains almost completely silent. It's as though she's holding back to let you get the full flavor of her parents. For your part, you don't find anything wrong with her parents. You always felt inadequate around your own mother. You feel like Marla's mother could be someone that you could hang out with, but then maybe- you think- that isn't really a good thing.

Marla's parents retire to the library after desert. Marla tells her father that you'll need a ride home in an hour or so, and then she tells him you two are going for a walk.

"Come on," she tells you, poking your arm.

You're relieved. Her parents are fine, but her perfect house is suffocating you.

You put your coats on and leave through the front door. There is nothing in Marla's yard but shrubbery- no cars and pieces of cars. The fence is intact. There are lights that lead from the door to the street. You walk with Marla down to the sidewalk and she turns left.

"You want to see it, don't you?" She asks.

"See what?"

"Where Sylvia lives. Come on, it's three blocks."

You shrug. It's almost a block and a half before it dawns on you that you could be seen by Sylvia if she's home.

"We don't need to," you tell Marla. "It's kind of creepy. We can't just go stare at her house."

"It's not like we're going to break in. We'll just walk to the end of the block and walk back. We're just two girls out for a walk."

You accept your fate. Marla seems determined.

You ask her, "Your dad doesn't know I'm Soda's sister, does he?"

"Who knows what he knows. You played him pretty good- talking about Darry and all."

You frown. You had looked at it more as self-preservation than as playing him.

"So are you and Soda done then?" You ask her.

"I think so. He doesn't let on, but I think he's still pretty stuck on that Sandy. I can't compete with that, and I won't. He's sweet and he gave it a good try with me, but I don't think he's ready to see anyone else. My dad sure didn't help there, either."

You let it drop. The two of you cross the street and Marla points at a dark, brick house. It seems modest by the standards of the rest of the neighborhood. All the houses, you think, could correspond to the mansions and castles in classic books. Marla's house reminds you of Rochester's mansion in Jane Eyre with either Marla or her beautiful mother trapped upstairs. Tara is right across the street from them. Sylvia's parent's house, on the other hand, resembles something more quaint- like a cottage in a fairytale.

"It's a neat house," Marla says. "Cool woodwork. I've been in it a couple of times."

She begins to tell you about the architecture of the house. You half-listen to her. There are lights on in inside, and you wonder what Sylvia is up to in there. Not much, you suspect. Everyone in this neighborhood seems to know what she's done, and no one is going to marry a girl like that. The only kind of boy who would take her is a boy like Dally. Maybe- if the rumors you've heard on occasion are true- a boy like Tim. You think she must be lonely.

You shiver and Marla asks if you want to head back.

"Yeah," You tell her. "I probably ought to get home."

Marla's mother insists on driving you home. It surprises you. You would have thought that driving around after dark was something that Soc women didn't do. You sit up front with Celeste and Marla sits in the back. The car is warm. Someone had started it before you all got in.

You start to give her directions, but she interrupts you: "Your brother seems like a nice boy."

It's her way of saying that she knows who you are. She's referring to Sodapop, not Darry.

"Yes, ma'am," You say. You can't tell if she approves of Soda or not; she just recognizes that he's nice.

As you enter your own neighborhood, you find yourself pressing against the door of the car. Even Marla's parent's car is suffocating. You don't know how Marla and her mom can breathe. You don't know how Sylvia breathes.

The car pulls up in front of your house. Only the porch light is on. Perhaps Darry is attempting to keep Soda's collection of partial cars in the dark.

You thank Marla's mother for dinner and then ride and tell Marla you'll see her tomorrow. You wait at the gate for them to pull away.

Inside the house, Darry has set up shop at the dining room table. He's doing bills and trying to balance the checkbook.

"How was dinner?" He asks you without looking up.

"Alright," you tell him. "They're different. They talk different."

He nods. Darry used to get invited to Soc friend's houses all the time in high school.

"Yeah," he says. "Nothing is direct with them. They wheedle."

You nod. He's hit it on the head.

He adds, "Sometimes I think that's the real reason we fight with them so much. It's like we speak a different language. It's easier to fight with them than to talk."

"I broke up with Two-Bit," you tell him because he's getting too deep with the Soc thing.

"I know," he says. There's a little smile at the corner of his mouth, although he still hasn't looked up from the bills. "And I want you to tell me about that tomorrow. You know where my job site is? Those new houses going up east of the Cherokee?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, come on over there after school- right after school," he pauses to make sure he's being understood. "I want you to tell me what's going on."

"With Two-Bit and Tim? Are you going to stop them?"

"I just want you to tell me about it. Right after school, Marina."


	33. Chapter 33

SE Hinton owns Darry and The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

February 1965, the next day, right after school-

The construction site where Darry is working is north of Will Rogers on the edge of town. The bus line doesn't quite reach it yet. You ride as far as you can, and then walk quickly towards the skeletal rows of houses that will eventually block the skyline.

You ask a foreman to point out Darry to you. You're aware, as you walk across the site, that some of the workers stop and look you over. Darry must be aware of it, too. When you finally reach him he sends you back to sit in the truck.

He gave you the keys to start it up and turn the heat on. It barely makes a dent in the dry February cold. You're sick of winter, you decide. Maybe if you had a better coat. You have the money since it never had to go towards bail for Darry. What you don't have, it seems, is the sense to spend your time coat shopping instead of running all over town with Two-Bit, Tim, and Curly. With Two-Bit out of the picture, maybe it's time to look for a real winter coat.

Bored, you go through the contents of the glove compartment and then peer behind the seat. You even start in on your homework. You hear Darry's footsteps on the hard ground before you see him coming. He opens the passenger door and leans in at you.

"You want to drive? Shove over."

You're shocked, but you don't question it. You swing your legs over the gearshift and slide behind the wheel.

Darry begins to instruct you, but then gives up when it becomes obvious you know what you're doing. He grumbles something about Dally, but when you sneak a look at him, he's rubbing his brow and shaking his head.

"Where am I going?" You ask him.

"Let's get something to eat. That diner down the block from Buck's- I know you know it."

You take him there. When you come to rest in the parking lot, you forget to put the truck back in neutral before you take your foot off the clutch. It shudders and dies. Darry smirks. It seems to please him that you don't quite have the hang of it yet.

It should make you nervous that Darry wants to take you out to eat. Darry never goes out to eat himself, let alone take of the rest of you. "We don't have the dough," he always tells you. You figure he wants a quiet place to grill you about Two-Bit without Pony and Soda floating around. You've been thinking most of the day about how much of what you're going to tell him.

He sits across from you in the booth and looks over the menu. You know what you want- decent breakfast food. There's eggs and toast at your house. None of you can make pancakes. Hash browns are a scarce commodity.

The waitress serves you both coffee. You don't drink it, but it makes you feel cool to possess it. If you and Darry didn't look so much alike and he didn't look like he just came down off a roof, you'd guess she's thinking you're are on a date. Maybe she still does- she doesn't even attempt to flirt with him the way waitresses often do.

When she departs, he leans forward to speak to you.

"I need to talk to you about something, baby," he tells you.

You remind him, "I broke up with Two-Bit."

"Yeah, thank Heaven for small favors," he says, and then he frowns. "That wasn't nice. I'm sorry."

You shrug. "I'm not."

Two-Bit didn't come to school again today so you haven't had to see him. As long as you don't have to look him in the eye, you don't feel sorry about it at all.

"Good," Darry says. "I still want to talk to you…well, I've been thinking, baby, about you being here with us and…Baby, and it's my fault."

"What's your fault?"

"It's my fault that I just don't know what to do with you. I don't know how to raise a girl. I don't know what to tell about guys or what to do about you going on dates. Hell, I can barely handle the idea of you driving."

Your stomach stops functioning. It's hard as a rock. You want to raise your hand and tell the waitress to cancel your order.

"Darry, I'm doing all right."

He shakes his head. "No, Marina, you're not. You're still skipping school. You're over at Buck's every time I turn around. You've struck up this weird little relationship with Tim Shepard. Don't get me wrong-I trust Tim in a rumble, but I don't trust him with my sister. I don't know what your fascination is with him or his fascination with you for that matter…"

You frown and look down at the table. You've never entertained the notion that Tim had any interest in you. He seems irritated by you most of the time. He seems irritated that Darry doesn't seem able to keep as tight a reign on you as Tim does on Angela. It's bothering Darry too.

"I don't have any fascination with Tim. He wants me to watch out for Curly."

"Christ, Curly," Darry shakes his head. Darry is not fond of Curly Shepard. He makes no secret of it. He would prefer that Ponyboy not hang out with him. "This is what I mean. This isn't what I had planned for you…"

The waitress arrives with the food. Darry stops talking and sits back. He thanks the waitress, declines more coffee, and then continues once she's gone:

"I don't know what I thought was going to happen. I just didn't want you to end up like Sandy. Frankly, I'm glad she's gone. She never did anything but hurt you and hurt Soda. Anyway, I've been thinking…eat your food…"

You shake your head. You don't want your food, and you don't want to know what Darry's thinking. He tells you anyway.

"I went to talk with the social worker. You know they get your attendance records, right?"

No, you didn't know that. You should've have guessed.

Darry says, "Yeah, and they're not real happy with what they're seeing. I needed to think of something or they were going to step in. So I asked them what our options were."

The first option that comes to you is to get up from the table and run. You grip the seat of the booth with your fingers to keep from doing it. It's the option you've always taken in the past, and look where it got you- you brother's taking you out for dinner so he can tell you he's getting rid of you.

"You can stay in Tulsa," Darry says. "Stay at Will Rogers. You won't have to go back to Oklahoma City, unless your behavior doesn't improve, but I promised them it would. If you just finish out the school year, then you can come back for the summer…unless you have to take summer school, but I think you can pull it together…"

"Where?" You whisper to the table top.

"A home. Like a foster home- it's run by all women, though. It's all girls."

"Like where the pregnant girls go." It's 1966, so- quiet as you are- half the diner still turns and looks at you when you say "pregnant". It's the eighth dirty word.

"I think that's a part of what they do."

"But I'm not…" You look around the diner again and change your choice of words. "I'm not in trouble. Not like that. I never…"

Darry manages a smile, albeit a sick-looking one. "Don't tell me 'you never', Marina. If you haven't, you're sure headed down that path. Just listen to me- it's a nice place. She told me where it is, and I drove by. It's not in any Soc neighborhood, but it's better than what I got to offer you."

A lump forms in your throat. Darry has always offered you everything he had. Now he's trying to tell you he has nothing left to offer. It's supposed to make you feel bad. You hate him for making you feel that way.

"I won't go."

"Then they'll take you, and if they have to take you, you'll go back to Oklahoma City. The social worker was on to you before I ever got there. I was on her list of people to call, believe me. It isn't just you, Marina. They know about me going to jail…"

"But that was a mistake, and you got out."

"I never got charged, but to them it just looks like chaos. It looks like I'm raising you in a chaotic environment."

"What about Soda and Pony? It's okay to raise them in a chaotic environment?"

"They figure I can handle the boys," Darry says. He sips his coffee.

You poke at your food.

"Eat," he says. "And when we go to leave, please don't run for it. Don't run away from me."

"Sure. Please just send me away instead."

You don't look up at Darry but you can hear him breathing. If you looked at him, you know his eyes would be filled with tears and you'd probably cry too. You might even feel sorry for him. You keep looking at your food and poking it around on your plate. You take a deep breath and force everything you feel down into your gut with a bite of hash browns.

"When?" You ask him.

"Tomorrow after school. We can do some laundry tonight when we get home."

"To your home, you mean. We'll do laundry at your place. It ain't my house anymore."

"Ah, Christ, baby," He says. "I knew you wouldn't make this easy…"

"I ain't your baby, and it sounds like you're making it about as easy on yourself as you can."

"Marina-"

You snap at him: "Don't talk to me. Eat your own goddamn food. You don't have to talk to me. Ever. You don't have to come to visit me, and I won't come home for the summer. I'll just go where you send me and you won't have to see me anymore."

"That's not what's going to happen," he says.

"How do you know what's going to happen? You won't have to know. I won't be at your house. I don't live with you anymore. It ain't any of your concern."

"Ah, Jesus," he whispers.

He raises his hand for the check. Neither of you is finished with your food. You both know, though, that you're finished.


	34. Chapter 34

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, still.

Why? Because I can.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Darry drives you back to the house in silence. Letting you drive to the diner was a ploy to make you feel upbeat and safe. That isn't going to work now so he doesn't even try.

Worse yet, when you walk through the door, Pony and Soda both drop their heads. They already know. He talked with them and warned them before he talked to you. They could've have tipped you off, but they didn't.

You don't say a word to either of them.

You go the basement and start to sort your laundry out from theirs. Footsteps creak on the stairs. You don't have to look up to know it's Soda. You turn the lever to start the water flowing into the washing machine. Then you turn your back to Soda and pick up a nearly used bar of soap and a knife. You shave off slivers of the soap into the running water.

When it becomes clear that you aren't going to say anything to him, Soda says, "He feels awful bad, you know."

You shrug and toss the knife and the soap into the work sink.

"Fuck him," you say.

Soda grabs your arm and yanks you around to face him.

"This is all your own fault, Marina."

You jerk yourself free. "Well, then fuck you too."

"God, I hate you sometimes," he hisses. You tell him the feeling is mutual, but he's already halfway back up the stairs and doesn't hear you.

* * *

><p>The home is a house in a nice but not-too-nice neighborhood. It has a large porch. There is a white fence surrounding the yard. There is no sign outside that says who lives there.<p>

Darry reaches to take the keys from the ignition.

"Don't bother," you tell him.

"I should walk you up."

"I can see the door. I ain't stupid."

But you are stupid. Soda's right- this is your own fault, and if you weren't stupid you wouldn't be here.

You get out of the truck and walk away. Darry doesn't attempt to follow you. He waits until you're inside the door, though, before he drives away.

The living room of the house is nicer than yours. There is carpet. There is no television, but there are several nice couches. A few girls are sitting around the room, and they all look up when you enter. A couple of them are, indeed, quite pregnant. One of them you recognize.

You frown at Sandy and her smile fades. She looks frightened. Her eyes dart back and forth around the room, but then she beckons you with her fingers. You cross the room and sit down next to her. You avoid looking at her. You glare at a bookshelf across the room.

"Thought you were in Florida," you say.

"I came back. My grandmother's a witch. They're going to take the baby away either way, so I might as well not live with that witch while I'm waiting for it." She pauses and you can feel her looking you up and down. She asks, "you're not…?"

"No, I'm not. I don't know anything about that kind of stuff, remember?"

Sandy doesn't reply.

A woman sweeps into the room, looks at the door through which you came, and then finds you. She smiles and takes a step in your direction.

"You're Marina? Do you two know each other?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sandy says.

You shrug.

The woman keeps smiling, but you can see in her eyes she's preparing to deal with your attitude. You can't tell from looking at her how she's going to go about it. You know right off, though, that you don't like her. It annoys you even more that you're probably going to have to talk to Sandy to find out.

"Marina, I'm Joy. I'll need you to come with me. I'll show you where you're going to be sleeping, and we'll go over some rules. My goodness, child, don't you have a coat?"

You stand and resist the urge to groan. You really should have gotten yourself a coat.

* * *

><p>The rules at Joy's house aren't much different than the Baptist Home in Oklahoma City. You don't really listen to her as she rattles them off. Joy is Baptist, too. She wants to know what religion you are. You shrug. She asked if you've been saved.<p>

"Apparently," you tell her. "I'm here, ain't I?"

She gives you that smile again, and you know you've offended her. It pleases you. It's been 15 minutes, and you already know how to get under her skin.

"You can share a room with Sandy," she says. "Are you two friends?"

"No."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get to be good friends. She's due in May or June. You'll have the rest of the semester together."

You have no reply for that. You decide to wait to unleash the full force of your sarcasm. You don't want to show all your cards at once. You follow Joy up the stairs to the room you will share with Sandy.

There are bunk beds. They remind you of jail. Joy tells you that Sandy has the bottom bunk because of her "condition". You wonder how many ways people can say "pregnant" without actually using the word. You're going to have to make a mental list of them and start using them inappropriately. That will most likely piss Joy off, too.

Joy points out your dresser, tells you to unpack, and then come down stairs for dinner. After dinner, there are prayers, homework, and then lights out. Lights out- just like jail.

You can feel a little bit of Dally creeping to the surface of your skin. Maybe the feeling of being caged does this to everyone. Maybe Dally acted like he did because he was locked up so much. He couldn't turn the feeling off after a while. You wonder if you'll get like that.

The room is unornamented, but it's clean and it should be comfortable. As you take your clothes out of your bag and toss them in the dresser, you find yourself looking out the window. You peer out across the dark neighborhood. You assess whether or not you could climb down out of the window and in which direction you could run. The remainder of your money from Oklahoma City is stuffed in the bottom of your bag. You've already decided to keep it in your school bag- to keep it on you rather than leave it here unattended. You've already determined you have enough for a bus ticket to somewhere. You don't have any idea, though, where you would go.

After dinner, Joy asks you if you would like to lead the evening's prayers. You tell her you don't know any. She knows you've been to the Baptist home and that this is a lie. Her reaction is the same: fake smile, dangerous eyes. She turns prayer duty over to the second pregnant girl.

You all do your homework together after clean the kitchen table. Sandy and the other pregnant girl- Christina- have homework, too. They don't get to go to school. Someone brings it for them.

At eighty-thirty, Joy tells you all to get washed up and go to bed. Nine o'clock is lights out. You follow the other girls upstairs, avoiding Sandy until the last possible moment. Joy comes around to each of your rooms and shuts out the lights. You half-expect her to try and tuck you in.

You wait in silence until you hear her footsteps on the stairs. You wonder where her bedroom is and if she'll be able to hear you if you get up. You aren't going to try it tonight.

Sandy waits a minute or two after the coast seems clear, and then she whispers to you:

"How's Soda?"

"He's fine. Want to know how Steve is too?"

Sandy says nothing. You hear her roll back over to face the wall. You feel just a little remorseful. A few minutes of silence and it overcomes you. You lean over the edge of your mattress to look at her.

"How long you been here?" You ask her.

"About a month." She's still facing the wall.

"Anybody know?"

"Just my parents."

"Can you leave when you have your baby?"

"It ain't my baby," she whispers. "There's already a family lined up. It's their baby. Joy keeps calling me a vessel."

You commit the word "vessel" to memory for your list of pregnancy words. The rest of what Sandy has said makes you feel ill.

"Do you want it to be your baby?" You ask her.

"It don't matter. What am I going to do with a baby? It's not like I can run away like this. They don't even let me out of this house. At least you get to go to school. God, if you are, 'Rina…don't tell them until you have to…don't tell them if you're knocked up."

"I ain't," you tell her again. Two-Bit was pretty careful about that, you have to give him credit. "What's Joy's deal, anyway?"

"God, she's…just come down here, will you? I don't want her to hear us."

You swing your feet over the edge and then quietly drop down next to her.

She tells you, "Just get ready to jump back up there if you hear her. She'll think we're queers if she catches us."

"Well, isn't kind of obvious that you ain't?"

For the first time, Sandy smiles at you. "Yeah, I guess my reputation precedes me. You, though…she doesn't know you. You might be trying to corrupt me."

"I think somebody beat me that," You tell her. You start to relax. As much as you thought you hated her, within an instant being back to mouthing off with Sandy makes you feel human again. Again you think of Dally- maybe this is what he and Tim did for one another.

"Okay," Sandy begins. "Joy's a pain in the behind. She never misses a chance to remind me and Christina- she's the other one who's knocked up- what a couple of whores we are. She doesn't call us that straight up."

"But she never misses a chance to remind you what vessels you are?"

"Exactly. She says it with that smile, but she just keeps saying it. I think she couldn't have kids or something. It's almost like she's jealous. And she thinks we're worthless because we can't do any hard work. Except, I don't know how to explain it, but I feel great. I'd totally be down scrubbing floors if she'd let me, but she'd rather keep reminding me that I'm a drain on society."

"So what does she do with the ones who ain't knocked-up vessels?"

Sandy asks, "What's she got on you?"

You shake your head. "I don't know what Darry told her. Skipping school, running around with boys."

"Which boys?" The teenage girl she had tried to push so far to the back of her head gets the better of her.

"Two-Bit and I went out for a couple of weeks."

"Seriously? He is kind of cute- that red hair. Who broke it off?"

"I did. Back to Joy and how she's going to stick it to me, you banty hen."

Sandy thinks for a second. "You drink?"

You nod in the dark and she guesses your answer.

"Well, drinking's a sin with her. Pretty much everything is. She'll sit you down tomorrow, I'll bet, and try to get it out of you- ask you why you think you're here. You can't lie to her. She's already assumed the worse. Best you can do is try to tone it down or make it sound like boys took advantage of you."

"Got it," you say, although you already have something very different in mind for your talk with Joy.


	35. Chapter 35

SE Hinton owns them all. Except Marina and Marla. They're my fault.

This chapter is really long.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

You finish the breakfast dishes in the sink and get ready to leave for school. Sandy elbows you and whispers, "don't tell, okay?"

You nod and hurry to catch the bus with the rest of the girls who are still allowed to get on it.

Once at school you avoid your brothers. Soda wouldn't talk to you if you'd attempted contact. You see Ponyboy talking to Curly in the hall. He meets your eyes, looks hopeful, but you turn away. Before you can get to the safety of the library, you run in to Two-Bit.

"Are you alright?" He asks you.

"Yeah, I'm finding it within me to move on."

"Smart ass," he mumbles. "I mean- are you alright at that place he sent you? That's bullshit, Marina. He can't just send you away. If you want, I'll help you get sprung."

"Two-Bit, I'm here. Obviously, they allow me out."

"I'm just saying," he says. He frowns and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Christ, why do have to be so mean?"

"Just a reflection of the cold, cold world I live in, I guess."

He shakes his head. "Was I ever mean to you?"

He's got you there. He's a dope- a dope with a temper and a mouth to match, to be sure- but he doesn't have a mean bone in his body.

Again, he offers, "If you want to run away…"

"I just want to disappear," you tell him in a moment of weakness. "I wish I could just drop off the face of the earth and not see anyone anymore."

"Don't talk like that. You sound like Johnny."

You can't remember if Johnny ever got locked up anywhere but in his parent's own house. You think that Johnny never had it this bad, but then you know that isn't true. Invoking Johnny's name makes you feel like you have nothing to complain about. It pisses you off.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about," you tell Two-Bit. You shove past him towards the library.

Marla is waiting there, sitting on the edge of a table. Her eyes are wide. She asks you what happened although she's obviously already heard. She tells you she'll talk to her mom. Maybe you can stay with them.

"Until June?" You ask her. "This ain't an overnight."

"Well, can you go for overnights? Or can I come visit you?"

You think of Sandy and the commonality she and Marla share. The only thing worse than being in the girl's home, you think, would be stuck in a room there with Sandy and Marla.

"I don't know. They haven't really gone over it all yet. I'll ask."

"Just don't run away, okay, Marina? It'll just get worse. If you want to run away, please just tell me. I'm sure my mom can figure something out."

You nod at her. Life in a world where your mom can still figure stuff out and make it better seems so far away to you.

* * *

><p>Without someone to make out with in the bell tower over lunch, you find yourself back in the cafeteria. You stand in the line with the whole room behind you and try not to think about all the people you don't want to sit with or who don't want to sit with you.<p>

An elbow in your back jars you out of your anxiety.

"Jeez, delinquent, pick up your fuckin' food and move on, will you? Some of us need to eat."

When you look up at him, Curly Shepard looks away like it wasn't him who said it.

"Yeah- because you need to keep your strength up for all that learning you're going to do this afternoon?" You ask him.

"Damned straight." He looks back down at you, grinning. "Hey, tell them you want an extra sandwich. I'm starving."

You nod. You get your food and walk away from the line. Curly gets his and follows you. He reaches over your shoulder and picks up your extra peanut butter sandwich. He adds it to the two he already has.

"Come on," he says. "Pony's over there."

"I ain't sitting with him."

"Come on, Marina. What was Ponyboy going to do? He's lucky he's still living at your house after all that shit last fall. Don't be such a brat."

You raise your eyebrows. "Glass houses," you mumble, but you follow him anyway.

Ponyboy looks down at his food when you sit down across from him. None of you says a word. Curly would be talking a mile a minute, but he's too busy eating.

Pony peels the crust off of his bread. You screw up your milk carton trying to open it. You have to open it again on the other side. Ponyboy speaks first:

"So, what's it like?"

"Like Disneyland. Like nothing you've ever imagined."

"Sounds like Disneyland to me," Curly says with his mouth full. "A whole house full of girls…"

You and Ponyboy both smile, although you avoid looking at each other.

"So in your Disneyland, Curly, there's nothing but girls? Are they wearing those cute little costumes?"

"Actually, they ain't wearing much at all," he says and winks at you.

You say to Ponyboy, "It's creepy. There's a couple of girls there who are knocked-up and they don't even let them out to come to school. It's like they've been kidnapped."

"I'm sorry," he says, still looking down on his food.

Curly stops chewing. "Wait- are you knocked up?"

"Christ, no, I'm not knocked up," you grumble. "Darry just stuck me there to get rid of me."

"You know that ain't true, Marina." Pony's head pops up. For the first time he speaks above a whisper. "He's all broken up about it. He doesn't say anything to me, but I heard him tell Soda it was a mistake. Two-Bit came over last night and they got in a big fight about it. Darry wouldn't let on to Two-Bit, but he told Soda."

"Wow, I think my brother dances a little jig whenever I get sent- my whole family, probably," Curly says. You think about Tim telling you to look after Curly. You wonder if Curly is just saying that to bitch or if he really doesn't know.

You tell Pony, "He knows where I am. It's all on him. It's got to be him that's going to fix it."

"I don't know if he can," Pony says. "He was telling Soda that, too. He signed something. I don't get all the legal stuff, but he still has custody of you, but not physical custody…does that sound right?"

"Yeah," Curly breaks in. "They did that with me once. Sent me to live with my dad for a while. I still belonged to my mom, or whatever, but my dad had the rights to make day-to-day decisions. Not that he did."

"So Darry gave up his rights to me?" You say. You press your lips together hard. You want to cry. It's almost the same feeling as when your parents died. You feel like an orphan again.

"No, not all the way," Curly says. He's so cavalier about it, as if these changes in custody are as common to him as changes in the weather. "He didn't give you up. He's just saying someone else gets to take care of you for a while. One of them social workers told me once that it's like if he left you with a babysitter. They have to take care of you, but your parents are going to come back eventually."

He stops and his eyes widen. He looks down at his food and then back and forth between you and Pony.

"Sorry. I mean, Darry's going to…Shit, I'm sorry I said 'parents'."

"It's okay," you tell him. "We know there is such a thing."

Ponyboy pushes his tray away. He cocks his head and looks at you with dead-serious eyes.

"So," he asks, "are you going to run away?"

"And go where?"

"My brother could help you out with that- ow!" Curly curses Pony for kicking him under the table.

"The idea is that she doesn't run away," he tells Curly. He turns back to you. "Right?"

"You know what? I probably will- as soon as I think of a place and as soon as it gets warmer. Yeah, I'm probably going to take off."

"You're so full of it, Marina," Pony says.

The bell rings. He picks up his tray and gets up. You wait until he's gone and a good distance ahead before you stand and head in the same direction. Curly follows you.

"When you go, take me with you, alright?" He says. "I got nothing to do but sit on my ass and wait for Tim to start blowing shit up."

"You think of a place, and we'll go," You tell him.

He grins and tosses his tray at the pile. "You're just saying that because you don't think I'll ever think of something. You just hold on to your socks, Curtis. Not like I'm actually doing any schoolwork while I'm here. I got nothing but time to think."

* * *

><p>You aren't really tuned in to your schoolwork either. The rest of the afternoon, you keep catching yourself thinking about running away with Curly Shepard. He becomes better-looking in your mind. He's not half bad now, but in your imagination he looks more mature. You daydream him into your knight in shining armor. He'll think of something. You're burnt out from thinking, but Curly will come up with something.<p>

You could kick yourself: you see him in the hall twice more that day and your heart leaps a little. You hear his laugh and you hope he's coming to talk to you.

When the last bell rings, you linger by your locker and wait for the plan. The only person who comes for you, though, is one of the girls from the home. You're going to miss the bus, she tells you. Joy calls the cops if we don't make the bus after school.

You see him in the parking lot. He doesn't see you. He and Ponyboy are chucking pebbles back and forth at each other. They're laughing. They laugh and fire away all the way to Two-Bit's car. They disappear inside, and then Two-Bit comes and drives them all away.

Abandoned, you get on the bus and ride back to your new home.

* * *

><p>Just as Sandy predicted, Joy asks you in to her room for a private discussion. It's free time for the other girls- a label that you find amusing because no one is really free to do anything. You can't leave, and the list of free things to do is pretty short. Almost all activities fall under the heading of sewing and reading. None of them includes shooting baskets or listening to the radio.<p>

At least now you know where Joy's room is. It's on the first floor behind the kitchen. Your room is not above it. Joy's window faces the front of the house; yours faces the side around the corner. It is a crumb of comfort, but comforting to know just the same. It gives you options.

Joy points you towards a rocking chair and sits herself in a desk chair. She turns to face you.

"Your brother says you're quite a handful," she says.

You shrug. You're beat. Getting your hopes up and having them come to nothing has drained you. Your plans for getting the upper hand on Joy take a backseat to getting Joy to leave you alone.

She starts to ask you questions about your alleged-handfulledness. Do you drink? Do you smoke? What do you smoke? Have you had relations with boys?

You roll your eyes at her use of "relations"- another one of those code words for good, decent, chicken-shit people.

_Yes, yes, just cigarettes, like how do you mean?_ You wonder if you can be more successful at dragging the words out of Joy than you were with Colleen Mathews.

"I mean," she says and sits up a little straighter. "I mean, have you been with boys in ways that could result in you becoming pregnant?"

"Why? Were you hoping for another baby to sell?" It just slips out. As much as Sandy has infuriated you in the past, the idea of Sandy having no choice about what happens to her baby infuriates you even more.

Joy says, "Your brother warned me about your mouth. He told me you would be a handful."

"My brother didn't tell you shit," you snap at her. "He wouldn't say that. Darry don't say 'handful'. And he's not going to make me stay here. He's going to come after me and take me home."

Joy smiles. It's a different smile than the one she uses to cover up when she's uncomfortable. This is a victorious smile. The tables have turned; it's her who's gotten a rise out of you. You're desperate and you're scared and you've let it show.

"Sure, I've fooled around with boys," you tell her, hoping to get back a little of what you've lost.

Joy is unfazed. "The Bible says we are to honor our mother and father, Marina. How do you think they'd feel if they were alive to hear all of this? How do you think they feel when they look down from Heaven and see their beautiful daughter living the life of a harlot? Do you think the life you're living honors your mother and father?"

She knows right where to hit you, that's for sure. It doesn't have quite effect she is hoping for, however. You did once spend 90 days entrenched with the Baptists.

"The Bible also says not to provoke children lest they come discouraged," you say. "My guess is that's exactly what you're trying to do- mess with my head and discourage me. You want a handful? Keep it up. You'll get yourself one."

You stand up and turn towards the door.

"Sit down," Joy tells you.

"Make me."

It's a foolish thing to say. She's older than you, but she isn't old. She's bigger and taller. Joy could probably take you to the cleaners. If you raise a hand to her, you're violent, disrespectful, out of control. If she does it to you, it's corporal punishment.

Joy doesn't follow you out of the room though. You pass the girls studying at the kitchen table. You hurry up the stairs to your room and grab your school bag off the bed. Certain that your money is still at the bottom, you open your dresser drawer and begin stuffing your clothes into the bag.

"What are you doing?" Sandy is so quiet coming up to you that she scares you when she speaks. You should've been paying attention. It could've been Joy behind you.

"Spring cleaning," you tell her.

"Please don't go, Marina," she whispers. "Please don't go. I'm so scared."

You sigh and put your bag down. You look at window, at Sandy's reflection. You don't trust her anymore, but you get that she's in a worse position than you being here. She's probably the only person who has alienated more people than you.

"What's she going to do to me?" You ask her. "Did you hear what I said?"

Sandy shakes her head. "No, but it must've been good. She just shut the door of her room after you left."

"What does that mean?"

"She's probably calling someone- maybe Darry. She's spinning some tale that you've been extra bad. She's telling him that she's informing the county, but she probably won't. She gets money from the County and it's based on our numbers. That's the only thing we have on her. It's not in her interest to get rid of us."

"So what she's doing is convincing Darry I need to stay?"

"Probably."

You nod. The two of you back up and sit on the edge of the bed. You rub your face with your hands and blink your eyes.

You look at Sandy and ask, "So what do you really want to do?"

"I don't really know." She shakes her head.

"Well, think of something and make it good. Make it worth my time if I'm going to stay."

Her reflection smiles in the window. It's her thinking smile. She takes your hand in hers and squeezes it.


	36. Chapter 36

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

The next day Marla asks you again about visitors and overnights.

"As a general rule- I still don't know. I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a while, though."

She rolls her eyes. "What'd you do?"

"I mouthed off to the matron lady pretty good."

"Why does that not surprise me? What happened? She didn't hit you, did she?"

You shake your head. "No. I think she called my brother. Maybe the cops in case I ran away."

"Why didn't you run away?"

You just shrug. You're not entirely sure yourself.

"It didn't seem like it was in the best interest of the group."

"Well, that's a new outlook," she says. Her eyes narrow, but she's smiling.

"You're not saying I'm selfish and impulsive, are you, Marla?"

She grins. "Did I say that? No, I was just implying it."

The two of you are sorting yesterday's books. Valentine's Day is gone and now it's creeping up on midterm exams. The library has been extra busy. Curly has even been here already this morning, although you're not sure his purpose was to get a book. You suspect, by the way he kept looking over his shoulder, that he was there trying to avoid someone- probably Aronson. You told him that Aronson had already breached the bounds of the library and could probably do it again on the next full moon.

"Aronson came to the library?" Curly had asked. "Shit, he can't read."

"He didn't come to read. He came to spread joy and sunshine, namely to me."

"If he does it again, tell me, will you?"

"I'll fire up the Bat Signal."

Curly had grinned and left without checking out a book. Thirty seconds later this dawned on him. He returned to ask you to find him a short, easy book that he could write a theme on in the next hour and forty-five minutes. You suggested Of Mice and Men. It's the shortest book you know that English teachers still consider to be a real book.

Before you return to the stacks, you pause and ask Marla:

"When you said your mom could help fix things, do you really think she would? Would she help me fix something?"

"Sure. She likes you. She says you're not being guided to your full potential."

You know it's meant as a compliment, but it feels a little like a snipe at Darry. You're fine with it when it's you sniping at Darry, but it still gets your dander up when it comes from someone else. You continue anyway:

"It's not for me, though. There's this girl there and she's knocked up and she wants to keep her baby. They're going to take it from her when she has it. They've already set up an adoption. They're not going to give her any choice."

"And it's not you?"

"No, I said it was someone else."

"Just making sure."

"Cripes," you grumble. "Anyway, she's not due until May or June. We tried to hash it all out, but neither of us really knows what to do."

"I'll ask. Mom went to college with a bunch of writers. She has to know people who got knocked up."

"Yeah, those writers- always up to no good. Thanks."

* * *

><p>You eat lunch again with Ponyboy and Curly. You tell Ponyboy that you aren't running away.<p>

"Good choice. Do you want a gold star or a cookie?" He says, trying to sound bored.

"I'm good with just knowing I'm making positive choices," you tell him. He grins in spite of himself.

"Fuck that," Curly says between bites of over-cooked spaghetti.

You ask him how Of Mice and Men is treating him.

"Did you do that on purpose?" He asks you.

"Do what on purpose?"

"Give me that book."

You frown, confused. "You said to find you a short book that the English teacher would let you slide on. You weren't going to make through Grapes of Wrath in that amount of time."

"Well, I hate that book. It's like me and Tim, and I'm the big dumb guy. I still ain't finished it. It pissed me off too much."

"Well, then it struck a nerve," Ponyboy says. "That's good. It'll give you something to write about."

"It sucks. I quit reading it. Are you sure you didn't do it on purpose, Marina?"

You shake your head. "Why would I try to make you feel dumb?"

"Because you think I am dumb. Everybody thinks that. I just didn't count on you trying to rub it in like that."

"I don't think you're dumb," you tell Curly in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry. I just gave it to you because you wanted a short book."

"Well, why don't you make it up to me and tell me what happens so I can write my stupid essay."

You look across the table at Ponyboy. He's looking down at the table again.

"What?" Curly asks.

"It's not good," you tell him.

"I know that," he says. "I can tell from reading it that it ain't going to come to no good. I just want to know what happens to Lenny."

"Write your essay about that," Ponyboy tells him. "Write it about foreshadowing. What about it makes you feel like it's going to come to no good?"

Curly is still looking at you, eyebrows raised. You feel like you've been punched in the gut.

"He dies. George has to kill him," you say. You sigh and pick up your tray. You get up from the table to dump your milk carton. By the time you've crossed the cafeteria, you've gone from feeling hurt to feeling angry. You walk passed Ponyboy and Curly and out into the hall.

* * *

><p>Two-Bit comes to fifth hour American Lit. He sits behind you as usual. He has his copy of <span>Huckleberry Finn<span>.

"We've moved on," you tell him.

"Yeah, you keep reminding me."

You shake your head. "No, dumbie, the whole class has moved on. We're reading Leaves of Grass now."

He looks confused. He stretches to see out the window.

"Where you getting the grass? It's February."

"Are you serious? It's a book, Two-Bit. It's a bunch of poems."

"Huh," he mumbles. "I usually never make it passed Huck Finn."

You sigh and hand your notebook back to him. He raises his hand and gets a copy of Leaves of Grass from the teacher. Behind you, you can hear him turning the pages of the notebook and copying things into his own as if he might really be serious about it.

Two-Bit hands the notebook back when the bell rings. He gets up and leaves the room without a word to you, not even a "thanks". When you get to sixth hour, though, you discover that he has written a note at the end of your notes from English.

_Rina- I know you probably don't want hear what I got to say, but I'm going to tell you something anyway and I want you to do it. Stay indoors this week. Just out of sight and away from the North side. I can't tell you why, but you can probably figure it out. Just, please, do what I'm asking just this once. I don't care what Tim told you about babysitting Curly. You just stay out of sight. Love you, Two-Bit._

It makes your heart hurt that he's still telling you he loves you. You almost want to do what he's asking. You rip the page out of the notebook. You consider throwing it in the trash, but then think better of it. Instead you ask to be excused to the restroom. You flush Two-Bit's note so there's nothing left to be traced back to him, you, or the Shepards.

* * *

><p>The bus ride back to the home is the best part of your day. It passes by too quickly. When you get to the home, you stand on the sidewalk and dread being trapped inside. One of the girls turns back and tells you that's you'd better come in.<p>

You tell her, "I'm just going to sit on the porch a minute. Are we allowed to sit on the porch?"

She shrugs. "It's cold."

"I'm aware. I just need to clear my head. I'll be right in, if Joy asks."

The other girls go inside. You wait for them to go and then you drag yourself to the porch and sit on the steps.

You look around at the other houses. They're nice, but not over-indulgent, like the Soc houses. You could imagine yourself in a neighborhood like this. You wouldn't feel bad about living here. You wouldn't feel like you were putting on airs.

The door opens behind you.

"Marina, you need to come inside now." It's Joy. The door closes again. She doesn't wait for you to follow. She just expects that you will.

"Goddamnit," you grumble to yourself. You stand up and go inside the house.

* * *

><p>The phone rings just as dinner is finishing up. Joy answers it. Everyone at the table looks hopeful, but also a little nervous.<p>

Joy puts her hand over the receiver.

"Marina," she says. "It's for you. It's your brother. You're really not allowed to have calls after dinner, but I don't think I told you that. I'll let it go this time."

You can't tell if she's trying to cut you some slack or to lull you into a false sense of security.

You nod and stand up. You take the receiver from her. You want to ask if you can take the call in her office, but you figure that would be pushing it.

"Yeah?" You say.

"Hey, 'Rina. Damn, that was easier than I thought." It's not any of your brothers. It's Curly.

"How did you get the number?"

"Tim. Tim knows all. I just wanted to tell you I finished that stupid book."

"Good to know. What'd you think?"

"It was stupid. It ain't like Tim and me at all. Tim would've taken Lenny on the run with him. He'd have done something to dodge the law just for the fun of it. George always wanted to get rid of Lenny. He was just too pussy to do it until someone else gave him the opportunity."

"Did you write that?"

"No. I wrote about foreshadowing, like Pony said."

You catch yourself smiling and then realize everyone is looking at you. Joy is cocking her eyebrow. She knows you aren't talking to your brother.

"Hey, Soda," you say anyway. "I got to go. I'm on dish detail."

Curly laughs. "That's cool. I was just checking in. Actually, Two-Bit told me to call you and make sure you were still there and not out roaming."

Your stomach contracts. "Why? What's going on?"

"Hell if I know. Two-Bit just told me to call you. I wasn't supposed to tell you that, but you already said you weren't going to run away."

"Okay," you say. "Well, that's good. I'll see you in school tomorrow. Right?"

He pauses before he says, "Right" and there is suddenly no question in your mind that you consider Curly Shepard a friend now. He's about to do something stupid and it's panicking you that you can't beg him to stop.

"Tomorrow," you say, a little more of an edge in your voice.

"Don't worry about, baby," he tells you. He sounds like Tim when he calls you "baby", but it really doesn't matter who he sounds like. Whenever a boy tells you not to worry, you know damned well that there's something coming worth worrying about.

* * *

><p>an: Going on winter break, so I'll probably be taking a break from this too. See you in two or three weeks.


	37. Chapter 37

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

Happy New Year!

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

The ground doesn't shake from the force of the explosion. If Tim was hoping for something earth-shattering, he must have been disappointed. The earth doesn't shatter. The fire engines make more noise. The wail of the sirens is the sound that wakes you up.

You hop down from the top bunk and creep to the window. Sandy stirs.

"What is it?" She asks.

"Something blew up. It's Tim and Two-Bit."

"Tim and Two-Bit blew up?" She isn't fully awake. You hope to hell that she's wrong.

You don't answer her. The sirens head north. You can see a light- like a candle flickering in the distance- far on the north side of town. It's probably in Greenwood. You never go there, but Tim goes where ever he wants. You wonder what he found to blow up there.

You sit on the floor against the window and watch the light. For a few minutes, it's more than just a glow. It gets big enough that you can see the distinct dance of flames. Then the fire trucks must arrive. The flames are crushed by a cloud of black smoke. It seeps across the sky and over the city. You can smell it even inside your room.

* * *

><p>You fall asleep with your head against the window. You have a headache from pressing against the cold glass. Sandy shakes your shoulder.<p>

"You'd better get up and get dressed. There's something going on downstairs."

You hurry into your clothes. You can hear Joy's voice, but can't make out what she's saying. She's arguing with a man. You find yourself hoping it's Darry.

It's not. You and Sandy creep down the stairs together. You stop before you enter the front room to listen in and collect any useful information you can before making yourself known to Joy and the man.

He's a cop. Joy is insisting to him that "she"- you assume she means you- was here all night. No, "she" didn't leave. Joy is certain. She goes on to tell the cop that he needs to wait outside on the porch. This is a private residence and there are girls here who wish to keep their presence here private. The officer is indignant. You can't see his face, but you can almost feel his smirk.

"I'm sure I'm familiar with all the faces," he tells Joy. "Go get her, and call the school. She won't be going in today. She'll be coming with me to answer some questions."

Joy turns the corner and is face-to-face with you and Sandy on the stairs before you hide. She might actually be amused to see you there. It's hard to tell in the dim light.

"Marina, there's a police officer here to see you. He wants to take you to the station to ask you some questions about what happened last night."

"What happened last night?" You ask her.

"There was an explosion and a fire. One of the drive-ins burnt to the ground."

Sandy asks, "Which one?"

You can already guess, given the direction the explosion was from the house.

"I'm not sure," Joy tells her. The officer clears his throat. She looks back in the direction of the noise. "I told him you were here all night, Marina. You were here all night, weren't you?"

If you had known that Joy expected you would sneak out, you would have done it a long time ago. You nod at her.

"I can't stop him from taking you," Joy says. "Just stay calm and tell the truth."

"Yes, ma'am," you tell her. You follow her down the stairs and into the front room. Sandy lingers on the stairs.

The officer looks familiar, but you don't remember his name. You've probably run from him in the past and didn't pause to get his badge number. He's tall and middle-aged. His belly is beginning to spread, but you know from experience he can still run. You're afraid of him. He looks you up and down, sizing you up, and determines that you won't be a problem.

"How long will you be?" Joy asks him.

"That depends on how helpful she is."

"What if she doesn't have any help to offer you?"

"Then she won't be too long. Would you like her brought back here or should I take her to school?"

Joy surprises you when she says, "Bring her back here."

The officer nods. He opens the front door and stretches his arm to escort you out. You're expecting a shove, but he doesn't touch you. He walks behind you to the gate and then opens that for you too. It's almost like a date. He opens the front door of the squad car for you. You pause and look back and forth between him and the back.

"You're not under arrest," he tells you, "but if you really want, you can ride in back."

You shake your head and get in the front. He shuts the door behind you and walks around to the driver's side. The radio is squawking and a dispatcher is carrying on through the static. You listen closely all the way to the station, but nothing he says makes any sense to you. It's mostly number codes for various emergencies and street names.

The station house is a two-story rectangular building. It's a sub-station. The real police station is downtown. You don't know whether to be comforted or alarmed to not be in the real police station. This feels remote and secretive.

"This way," the officer says. He herds you up to the door and inside. You climb a few stairs ahead of him into an open room with a large counter. Behind it are the officer's desks and sergeant's office behind a glass window. The holding cells are on the second floor, you guess. There is a large metal door. It's closed, but you figure the staircase is behind it.

On a bench in front of the metal door sits Tim Shepard. He's handcuffed to the armrest of the bench. He looks like he's been up all night, but he usually looks that way- rumpled shirt and dark circles under his eyes. He looks up when you come up towards the counter. You try not to look at him, but you sneak a glance from the corner of your eye. He doesn't look at you. He's looking at the floor, but you can tell there's a little smile on his lips.

"This way, Miss Curtis," the officer says. He leads you to his desk in the center of the room, in plain view of Tim. You sit in a chair, with your back to Tim. Now, you're sure he's watching you. You get the sense that the officer is more interested in Tim's reaction to you than anything you might have to say.

The officer goes through a list of formalities. He reminds you that you are not under arrest. There has been an incident and he would like to ask you some questions about some friends of yours who may or may not be suspects. He taps a file on his desk and reminds you of your probation status. Your help will be greatly appreciated, he says. It's a threat.

"Can you tell me where you were last night, Marina, at eleven o'clock?"

"At Joy's house. I was in bed."

He nods and writes that down. "You've never left Joy's house after you were supposed to be in bed?"

"No, sir."

"Did you notice anything strange last night? Hear anything out of the ordinary?"

You wonder if he means the fire trucks. There is a fire substation near Joy's house. Fire trucks go by all the time. He knows you have to have heard them. If you tell him you did, though, he'll ask why the sirens caught your attention at all.

You stifle a shrug and look him in the eye. "I heard fire trucks. I was up reading. Lights are supposed to be out, but I was reading a book."

"What were you reading?"

"Of Mice and Men." It's the first thing in to your head.

"Marina, how well do you know Keith Mathews?"

_Biblically_, you think to yourself.

"Pretty well. He's friends with my brothers."

"He's your brothers' friend, but not yours?"

"He's my friend, too. We went out for a while."

The officer writes that down. "But you don't go out any more?"

You shake your head. You know where this is going and you're thinking hard trying to stay ahead of him.

The officer asks, "When did you and Keith break it off?"

"I don't know. Last week or the week before."

"Who broke it off?"

"I did."

"And why was that?"

You saw this one coming.

"My brother didn't like me and him going out," you say. "We were never allowed to go anywhere, so it just seemed dumb after a while."

The officer smiles down at his tablet.

"I thought your brothers were friends with Keith. Why didn't your brother want the two of you going out?"

"Said he was too old for me." Actually it was Marla who said Two-Bit was too old, but _somebody_ said it, so it's not a complete lie.

"When was the last time you saw Keith Mathews?"

"In school yesterday."

"Did you speak with him?"

You nod. "We have American Lit together. We spoke about American Lit."

The officer clears his throat. He makes no attempt to hide looking over your shoulder. He wants to be sure he has Tim's attention.

"Marina, do you know Tim Shepard?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how do you know him? Also a friend of your brother's?"

"Yes, sir."

"When was the last time you saw Tim?"

You can't help but grin. "About two minutes ago, when we came in here."

The officer clicks his tongue, annoyed.

"When was the last time before that?"

"I don't know. I usually just see him around, but we don't hang out. Probably last week sometime."

"So, you've spoken to both Keith and Tim within the last week?"

"Two-Bit, yeah. Tim…maybe. Probably."

He knows you're lying. You try not to squirm.

The outside door opens and shuts and there are footsteps on the stairs. They're quick but heavy footsteps. You recognize them. You know who's there before he slaps his palm down on the counter and demands that the clerk let him see you.

"Miss Curtis isn't under arrest," the clerk tells him. "There's no reason to be alarmed."

"She's sixteen and she's in my custody," Darry tells him. "You have no right to question her without me present."

The officer questioning you stands up. He's across the room in three steps. He stands across the counter eye-to-eye with Darry. You look at Tim. He's sitting up now, leaning back against the bench. He gives you a quick nod. You look back to Darry and the cop.

The officer says, "Again, Mr. Curtis, she's not under arrest so we don't have to notify you. And it's my understanding that she's not in your custody."

"I'm her legal guardian," Darry tells him. "Her current living situation is temporary. Let me back there or I'll come back with a lawyer."

You and everyone else in the room knows Darry can't afford any lawyer. You appreciate the sentiment, though. The officer relents with an irritated sigh. Darry glares right at Tim as he walks by. Tim doesn't react. When he reaches you, Darry puts one of his mammoth hands on your shoulder. He doesn't let go as he reaches to the next desk and drags a chair over to sit on.

"You okay?" He asks you.

"Never better."

"Well, it's not like you're completely without experience in this area," he says.

The officer raises an eyebrow. "Care to explain that, Mr. Curtis?"

Darry gestures towards his desk. "You've read her file. We both know she's had a few indiscretions in the past. Now you've got her here trying to rattle information out of her with all that hanging over her head. Would you like to tell me what it is you're questioning her about?"

"Last night a bomb went off in the Greenwood section of town," the officer says, sitting back in his chair. "The explosion triggered a fire that destroyed The Dingo drive-in. Your sister is known to associate with two of the suspects."

"If I'm guessing right about the suspects, then I'm known to associate with them too," Darry says. "How come you ain't hauling me in for questioning?"

"Would you like to be questioned, Mr. Curtis?"

"Sure, go right ahead, but you're done with her. You brought her down here because she's a kid and you thought you could intimidate her. Well, you don't intimidate me. Ask away. Marina, go sit by the door and wait for me."

The officer opens his mouth to object, but closes it again. You're up and out of your chair in a flash. You don't look at Darry or Tim as you cross the room. You sit down next to the door and wait. You don't have to wait long. The officer has nothing he wants to ask Darry.

Darry's face is still hard and unreadable when he comes around the counter and says, "Let's go," to you. You stand and follow him down the steps and out the door. He doesn't open the passenger door to the truck for you. He's hurrying like he's on a mission.

"Are you taking me to school?" You ask him.

"Social Services," he says as he pops the clutch. "We're going to straighten this out."

"Straighten what out?"

"We're going to straighten out what I screwed up," he says. "You just got to promise me one thing, Marina. If I bring you home, you got to promise you'll never go near Tim Shepard again. I don't want you talking to him. I don't want you anywhere near him."

You nod. "What about Two-Bit?"

"That won't be a problem," Darry says. "I don't think any of us is going to be talking to Two-Bit for a long, long time."


	38. Chapter 38

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

You and Darry speak at the same time:

"What happened to Two-Bit?"

"I'm taking you back to the house. I'll pick up your stuff at the home for you."

You take a deep breath and try again once you're both inside the truck.

"Darry, what happened to Two-Bit?"

"He got caught. Shepard gave 'em the slip…at the time, anyway. Looks like they've got him now. Two-Bit got picked up last night. Someone saw them, I guess."

You frown. You can't read Darry. He doesn't seem angry or even disappointed. He just looks tired. Darry always looks tired, as if any show of emotion is draining on him.

You prod him a little: "So The Dingo burned down. They burned it down?"

"Sounds like it. The Shepards and Two-Bit."

"What about Curly?" You wince a little when you ask the question. Darry shoots you a look from the corner of his eye.

"Couldn't tell you," he says. "Didn't bother to ask about him."

You want to know who Darry asked, where he got his information. You get your answer.

"Colleen's at the house. The cops came to question her. I want you to stay there with her while I go after your stuff. What did you have there- a backpack and some clothes?"

You nod.

"Darry?"

"Yeah?"

"Sandy's there."

Finally, a smile from him. It's more like a silent laugh. He nods a little like you've confirmed something he already suspected.

"I'll be sure to tell her 'hi'," he says.

"Should we tell Soda?"

"What good would that do?"

You shrug. You don't know. It just seems like the honest thing to do.

* * *

><p>Colleen is sitting at the dining room table. Soda and Ponyboy are in the living room and seem to be avoiding her. The house seems strangely quiet, lacking energy. You realize it's because Two-Bit is missing.<p>

Colleen stubs out her cigarette and stands up when you enter with Darry.

"Do you remember what I told you, Marina?" Is her greeting. "You remember I told you he'd end up in jail?"

Sick as you are…or were…with Two-Bit's antics, it hurts you to hear Colleen speak that way of her son. You want to tell her off for it. Darry speaks before you can collect your thoughts:

"I'll be right back. Y'all stay put."

You sink down on the couch between Pony and Soda.

You mumble to Ponyboy, "where's Curly?"

He shrugs. "How should I know?"

Colleen looks back at her chair at the table, but decides against sitting down. She asks if you want something to eat. You don't, but of course Soda does. Colleen tells him she'll make him a sandwich.

"Come with me, Marina," she says. It's not an invitation.

She leans back against the counter and watches while you do all the work.

"You lied to me, little girl," she says.

"About what?"

"Don't give me that- you know exactly what about. You let me give you that whole big talk and never let on that it was him you were seeing. And I know damned well there was a lot more going on than holding hands at the movies."

You decide against pointing out that withholding information isn't really lying and that nothing was going on yet between you and Two-Bit when Colleen had her talk with you. You butter Soda's bread.

"You must think I'm some kind of mother," she says. "Not standing up for my own son. I can't even explain it to someone as young as you. I tried, but I guess it didn't sink in. Do you remember Keith's daddy?"

You shake your head.

"Well, I couldn't change him, and if there's one thing I learned from all that it's that I ain't going to change Keith. Neither can you. Maybe it ain't half-bad that he's going to get sent down. Now you won't get the chance."

"We ain't even together anymore," you tell her.

She smirks. "Says you. I know how he is. He was going to work at it like a dog until he got you back…got you back so he could leave you sitting alone waiting for him once he figured he had you under his thumb."

She sounds so bitter when she says it. She isn't even talking about Two-Bit, you figure. Two-Bit never acted bored with you. If anything, his attention was smothering.

You lay the bologna on the bread and shrug at Colleen to let her know you're kind of listening.

"Were you careful at least?" She asks you.

"I didn't cut myself, did I?" You gesture to the knife on the counter.

She can't help but smile. "Not with the sandwich. You know damned well what I mean, little girl."

"Yes, ma'am, he was," you tell her. You put the sandwich on a plate and then escape back to the living room.

"Thanks," Soda whispers when you hand him the sandwich. "You alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Are you?"

"You think Two-Bit'll go to prison?"

You nod in Colleen's direction. She's gone out on the back porch to have another cigarette.

You tell Soda, "She sure thinks he is."

"God, it's like little pieces of us keep getting cut off," Soda says. "Like something's chipping away at us until we all just disappear."

"Aw, come on," Ponyboy whispers. He runs his fingers through his hair.

"Nah, I'm serious. Don't you ever feel like someday there's going to be nothing left? Like we'll all be gone?"

"Someday, we _will_ all be gone," you say. "Death and taxes, Soda."

"Well, it didn't all have to happen in the course of a year. Mom and Dad were supposed to get old. Darry was supposed to get out of here and have a nice family. Dally and Johnny were…shit, and now Two-Bit…"

"Two-Bit ain't dead," you remind him.

"Might as well be, 'Rina. Darry didn't tell you nothing, did he? They found a body after the fire. Somebody got killed. Whoever they decide to pin it on is going away for a good long time."

You'd get up and walk away, but your stomach has gone solid. It's like a rock pinning you to the couch. Instead, you sputter, casting blame in any direction but Two-Bit's:

"Who was it? What the hell were they doing in the drive-in anyway? It's February."

"They guess squatters," Ponyboy says. "Bums. The body was in the concession stand."

Soda continues, "That's what blew up, they figure. Tim and Two-Bit just had that squirrelly little pipe bomb, but it touched off the cans off oil stored up for the popcorn. Leveled the concession stand. Burned up whoever was holed away inside."

"Shit," you whisper. You can't think of anything else to say.

* * *

><p>The three of you are still sitting on the couch a safe distance from Colleen when Darry gets home. He's already missed half a day of work. He tosses your bag at you as he comes through the door and goes straight to the phone to call in for the rest of the day.<p>

"You hear anything?" He asks Colleen when he's finished. They're on the same level- Darry and Colleen. She's twice his age, and there was a time when she'd drag him home by the ear when she caught him up to something with Two-Bit. Now, he acts like a parent and she accepts him as one.

She shakes her head. "I'll go on down and see him if you don't need me here."

"Give me a call when you get back," he tells her.

She nods. She pats Ponyboy on the shoulder and gives you a look as she leaves.

"What'd they charge him with?" You ask Darry when Colleen is gone.

"Second degree murder."

"What about Shepard?"

Darry snorts. "Haven't charged him with jack shit yet. They're holding him and waiting for Two-Bit to give him up, but I don't need to tell you how that's going to go. Should've beat Shepard into the ground when I had the chance."

You stand up and pick up your bag. You raise it to show Darry.

"I'm going to put this stuff away."

"Don't make me board up your window."

"Where am I going to go, Darry?"

You're angry at him, all of the sudden. You're angry at all of them. Colleen's right: they're dumb, selfish boys who never think anything through and don't care who they hurt as long as they have a little fun doing it. Darry was no different once upon a time.

You dump the contents of your bag on to your bed and begin spreading out your clothes. The money left over from Oklahoma City tumbles out on top. You put it back in the top drawer of your dresser. The idea of a bank account flits through your mind. You've never had one of your own. You and your brothers each having a savings bond that your grandparents bought when you were born. You're unsure if that counts as a bank account or not. One things for sure- you don't want that money lying around here anymore where one of these stupid boys can come crying to you to use it for bail money.

You put the rest of your clothes away and sit down on your bed. You could be doing homework, but your mind is in a fog. You wonder what went through Sandy's mind when Darry came to pick up your stuff. You wonder if they spoke. Sandy was always another drain on Darry.

Out in the front room, the door opens and shuts. There are quiet voices and then they get louder. Darry's taking his authoritarian tone with someone. Being as you're in your room and safely out of his sight, you can't imagine who else he could be yelling at. Against your better judgment, you get up and creep towards the front room.

"…I don't care what he told you. I don't want to hear a damned thing you have to say. Just get on out of here. I'll call the cops myself," Darry is saying.

You peek around the corner. It's Curly Shepard. His hair has lost its swirl and is falling down in his eyes. He looks scared and angry at the same time. Maybe it's the same thing with him. He's trying to hold his ground with Darry, but Darry's size alone has him wanting to run.

"Where am I supposed to go then?" He asks with a bite in his voice that surprises you. "I can't go home. Tim said to come here. He said y'all 'd help me out. Was he wrong about that?"

"Tim is wrong in so many ways, it would amaze you," Darry grumbles.

You step out of your hiding place and Curly sees you.

"Thought you were under lock and key somewhere," he says.

You shake your head. "Just here."

He grins at that. Darry takes another step towards Curly and he flinches again.

Soda says, "Come on, Darry. Just hear him out. Maybe he didn't do anything."

"You really believe that, little man?" Darry snaps. "You got your wallet on you, then, because I got a bridge to sell you."

Soda looks back at you, confused. He doesn't understand. You shake your head at him: _later_.

"Why did Tim tell you to come here?" You ask Curly.

"I don't know. He just said if things went south, I was to come here and not go home. Like, I'm going to go there anyway…shit, I'd rather go to jail."

"Then today is your lucky day, Shepard. Let me arrange that for you." Darry turns and steps towards the phone.

Curly looks frantically between Soda, Ponyboy, and you. You see his dark eyes through his bangs for just a moment, and then he turns and runs out the door.

When he's gone, Darry puts the phone down.


	39. Chapter 39

SE Hinton owns them.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

The must be a motive. There's always a motive.

When Colleen calls Darry, she tells him that they wouldn't let her see Two-Bit yet. She's going back tomorrow and she wants you to come with her. You puzzle over it for a bit and decide that she's trying to drive home the point that's he's ended up in jail by making you see him there. You don't need to see him there; you get it, but Darry tells you to go along with her for support. It will get you out of seventh hour European History, so you shrug your shoulders in agreement.

"Do you know how to drive? I hate to drive," she tells you when you meet her in the parking lot.

You nod. She's driving Two-Bit's car. It's a boat and difficult to steer, but he's let you a couple of times. You know it's idiocyncrisies well enough.

You ask Colleen, "I got an errand, if you don't mind. Can we go to a bank? I got some money left over from when I was…it ought to be in a bank, right?"

"I think that's a good idea," she says. "Which bank do you want to put it in?"

"I don't know. Whichever one Darry goes to, I guess. Which one do you go to?"

She smiles. She tells you it's the one two blocks away from the bar where she works. That way she can deposit her checks right away and not have a chance to spend them. The bar, the bank, and the jail are all close to one another. For the sake of convenience, you decide on Colleen's bank.

"I'd also like to get my hair cut," you tell her. She smiles and shakes her head.

"You know, your mother would…how many times am I going to say that?" She cuts herself off and stares ahead out the window.

It rarely occurs to you that anyone could miss your parents as much as you and your brothers do. Your mom and Colleen were close. You wonder if she gets the same hollow feeling when she thinks about your mom as you do when someone mentions Dally or Johnny.

She pulls herself out of it and looks at her watch.

"Bank, then haircut, then jail," she says. She doesn't have to say it, but she does anyway: "You want this to be your life, my girl- having 'jail' on your list of errands?"

From what Soda told you, jail isn't going to be on that list for long. If Two-Bit goes to prison, it will greatly diminish any of your opportunities to visit him. You shrug at Colleen.

You find a parking spot in front of her bank. The bank itself is small, but it looks solid from the outside. You suppose that's something one should look for when choosing a bank- one that looks like it can't be knocked over by- say- boys with pipe bombs. Colleen holds the door for you, but she hangs back after that. She sits in a chair by the door and smokes while you speak with the teller and then bank officer. You have to admit that you like it when she lets you handle things for yourself. You mom would've perched herself on your shoulder throughout the whole exchange.

The bank officer gives you a little book to write deposits in and a receipt. You can't imagine when you'll ever be making another deposit. Maybe you could get a job somewhere.

That opportunity presents itself more quickly than you'd expected. It's so quick, in fact, that it scares you a little. You'd only been half-way serious when the thought flitted through your head.

There's a sign in the window when Colleen drops you off at the beauty parlor. You figure they're looking for someone who can cut hair or run the register, but you ask anyway. They want someone to clean up- sweep the floor after cuts, wash the scissors and combs and the sinks. It sounds a little gross to you, but ask about applying anyway. The possibility of hanging out with all of those cool-looking, gum-smacking, older girls is too tempting. You don't even know when you'd be able to work. You figure you can work that out with Darry later.

The girl behind the counter tells you there's no application; just leave your number. She asks how old you are and you tell her sixteen. She asks if you're in school. You don't know why, but you tell her "for the moment". She has no reaction other than to take your name and number.

"I applied for a job," you tell Colleen when you meet her back at that car. She's smiling at your short hair. You figure telling her will be testing the waters before you tell Darry.

She brushes a stray hair off of your forehead. "You think that'll fly with Darrel?"

"I don't know. I don't really think I'll get it. I can only be there after school."

"Do you have references? Tell 'em to call me. I'll be your reference. You used to babysit for Darla."

You nod. She's still scanning you, and it's making you uncomfortable.

"You need some big, dangly earrings, little girl," she says. "Like- what do they call them- those Factory Girls in New York City."

You can't help but smile. Let Colleen take Darry on over that one. Darry would never let you get your ears pierced.

It's visiting day, and the jail is busy. Colleen takes on a more serious air when you get inside. Her face changes and her stance. She's been here plenty. The officer behind the desk knows her. He doesn't even ask her about bail. He knows she doesn't have it.

Colleen goes first and leaves you sitting on a bench in front of the desk. You're sitting staring at the clock on the other end of the room when the door flies open. Three new inmates and two deputies push into the room.

The inmates don't seem overly concerned. They're laughing and joking with each other. It's so obvious what's going on from looking at them that you don't realize immediately that they aren't speaking English. The language is unfamiliar, but they're teasing one another. That much is clear.

The officers look like they've had enough. Maybe they've been the object of some of the teasing. You force yourself to look down at the counter when you're unable to hide your smile. A familiar laugh makes the smile drop off of your face, though. You look up again. He looks right back at you as the officer shoves him past.

"Hey, darlin'. You come to spring me?"

It's Ruby. He's not in his uniform. He's wearing a snap shirt and jeans. His companions are dressed the same. They're all wearing boots. If it was rodeo season, you'd guess that they'd just been at one.

You stare at him. He grins and shakes his head. He says something to his friends, pointing at you with a jut of his chin. One of them teases him. The other looks you over and raises his eyebrows. He appears to be impressed and you wonder what Ruby told him about you.

"Alright, honey," the deputy behind the counter says. He has to say it twice to get your attention away from Ruby. He's going to be busy now. He needs to get rid of you. "Come on back. You got five minutes."

You stand and follow the officer back to the visiting area. You crane your neck around to look at Ruby one more time. You walk into a desk, and his friends laugh at you. Ruby doesn't laugh. He's smiling, but he looks charmed more than amused.

"You alright?" The officer asks.

"Yeah," you mumble and force yourself to look straight ahead down the hall where Two-Bit is waiting.

You pass Colleen going out. She looks you over and says, "little girl, you look green. It's alright. Stand up straight and go in there lookin' tough- give him a taste of what he's going to be missing."

You nod even though you really haven't heard a thing she's said.

Two-Bit looks like hell. He's dirty, for one thing. You guess it's a fine layer of soot from the fire. His hair is combed into place, but there are dark circles under his eyes. He barely manages a smile when he sees you. You sit down across from him.

"My mom bring you to torture me?" He asks.

"I don't know why she brought me. I got no such plans."

He looks down at the floor, runs his fingers through his hair and then looks back up at you again.

"Baby, I don't know what I did," he says. It irritates you- and then it doesn't- that he calls you 'baby'.

"I know what you did," you tell him. "Soda told me. I'd like to hear it from you, I guess."

He shakes his head and frowns at you. "I shouldn't tell you that. If they come around to question you, you tell them we're broken up and you don't know nothing, alright?"

"We are broken up." You feel the need to remind him.

"Marina," he says. "If it means anything, you were right. It was a stupid thing to do. I should've told Tim to fuck off and stuck by you."

"You say that now because it went south," you snap at him. "If it had gone according to Tim's plan, you'd be off partying at Bucks. You'd be throwing a couple back with Kathy on your lap."

"Holy shit, Marina. I don't give a damn about her. I ain't even talked to her since…" He pauses. You're making him angry, and he doesn't want to be angry. "Anyway, I'm trying to tell you that I know I fucked up bad. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'm going to miss you the whole time. I wish you'd give you and me some thought in the meantime, but if you don't want to…I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you."

You look down at your hands, and they're shaking. You know he's thought about this- his whole damned speech. He probably had it planned in advance of the bombing just in case he had to use it. He's such a dumbass, but you can't stand thinking about him all alone with only the thought of you and your broken friendship to keep him company.

"I got stuff to do," you tell him. You don't, but you don't want to be trapped in this tiny room with him anymore.

"Yeah," he says. You can tell that he regrets saying what he did, exposing himself like that.

"What did you think I was going to say, Two-Bit?"

"I don't know. I just…hey, just steer clear of Shepard, okay? He thinks he's got us all wrapped around his finger. Don't let him do that to you. Don't let anyone…"

"I got it," You say.

The guard opens the door and tells you time is up.

"Come back and see me?" Two-Bit asks. "I stay here till I go to trial. They won't transfer me until, well, you know."

You shrug. "I'm trying to get a job."

That you did say on purpose to torture him. The truth is you probably will come back and see him, but you don't feel like making any sort of commitment.

"Yeah," he says. "Alright then. I guess I'll see you around."

You don't know what to say to someone you're leaving behind in jail. It's not 'good-bye' and it's definitely not 'take it easy'. You force a smile, nod at him, and say nothing. The guard holds the door open for you and you follow him back down the hall.

Colleen isn't waiting for you on the bench when you there. You look around, and the lady who is sitting there tells you your mom is in the ladies room. You thank her and peer out into the main hall. No sign of Colleen.

You say to the lady on the bench. "Thanks. When she comes back, will you please tell her I'll just be a minute?"

You step up to the counter again. The deputy doesn't look up, but he knows you're there.

You ask him: "Those guys who just came in- I know one of them. Can I see him?"

"Which one?"

You smile down at the counter. "His last name's Ruby. I guess I don't know his first name."

The deputy sighs and slides a few papers around. He picks up his ring of keys.

"Gilbert Gene Ruby, Junior," he tells you. "That sound about right? You know the drill. Go on back. I'll get him."


	40. Chapter 40

SE Hinton owns Two-Bit and his mom.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

"Gilbert?" is the first thing you ask him.

"Hey, honey. I thought you'd cut and run on me. Yes, ma'am, but my daddy's called Gilbert. I'm just Gil."

"Or Junior," you say.

He squints at you. "Yeah, or Junior. I never did get your name. I just think of you as Miss Tulsa."

There is a Miss Tulsa title related to the rodeo. It's usually a Soc girl they pick for that. No one would ever crown you Miss Tulsa, and it's funny to you that Ruby would think of you in that way. It's funny to you that Ruby would think of you at all. Of course, you think about him. He haunts your dreams.

You look around and take a seat across from him. He sits down too. He's not handcuffed, so they must not consider him to be a threat. You can't smell alcohol on him, just cigarettes.

"I thought you were in Vietnam."

"Nope, I decided not to go."

"So you're AWOL. Aren't they going to find that out if you're here?"

He grins and shakes his head. "Nah, we ain't going to be here long. My buddy and my cousin got the money for bail. After that, we're taking off up north again. If they was up there looking for me, they've given up by now."

"Where's up north?"

"Nebraska. Macy. What are you doing here? Visiting another one of your rowdy friends?"

You manage a weak smile. His face gets serious and concerned.

"Goddamn, and I thought I was no good," he says. "Still just a dumb country boy, I guess. This town of yours scares the hell out of me."

You tell him, "He was my boyfriend. We've known each other forever. I think he's going to prison."

"Then he'd better be your _ex_-boyfriend. As if I'm one to talk, sitting on this side of the table."

The two of you fall silent. You sneak a look at his face. He's the Ruby you saw in your dream- mischievous and shy, pock-marked skin and glimmering black eyes. There's a scar under his left eye that you hadn't noticed before. It's an old one, but it's deep.

He catches you looking at him and smiles. He leans back in his chair, trying to look sly. You can tell he's a little embarrassed.

"Your name?" He reminds you again.

"Marina. Marina Curtis."

He reaches out to shake your hand and then quickly retracts it when the guard taps a warning on the window. Ruby makes a face at him and then winks at you.

"I guess I won't be kissing you good-bye this time, Marina Curtis. Marina- like the water. I like that. Suits you."

You have no idea what he means by that. He looks thoughtful when he says it, though, like he believes it and it's not just something he's saying to string you along.

The guard taps on the door again and calls, "let's go," to you.

Ruby mumbles, "Shit."

You stand up, slowly this time. You aren't in a hurry to escape like you were with Two-Bit. Ruby doesn't stand up at all. He looks you over and breaks into a grin again.

"I suppose, if you were to leave your number with my secretary out front, we could arrange something. So long as you promise not to bring along any of your armed and dangerous friends."

You nod. This time you're not being noncommittal. The wheels in your head are turning, trying to figure out how to make this happen.

Ruby seems to get this and doesn't demand a reply.

"I'll be seeing you then, Miss Marina," he says. He points to the door where the guard is waiting, as if he knows you need to be instructed to leave.

* * *

><p>Colleen is waiting for you on the bench. She stands up as soon as she sees you. She's frowning.<p>

"If you tell me you went back to see that bastard Tim Shepard, I will put you in the trunk, little miss."

You don't know how to explain Ruby to her, and you don't really want to. You figure she won't really put you in the trunk- just give you an earful- if you tell her you just had to visit Tim.

"Yeah," you say. "I guess I just wanted to hear it from him."

"Hear what from him? A fairy story? I ought to tell Darrel on you, little girl. Please just stay away from him, Marina. What'd my dear boy have to tell you?"

You've almost forgotten. You take the keys from her as the two of you walk down the stairs towards the main doors. You don't really want to drive this time. Your head is somewhere else. You have to think to conjure the pieces of your conversation with Two-Bit.

"He apologized," You tell her. "He wants me to think about me and him, keep it as an option, I guess."

"Hell of an option," Colleen says. "At least we'd know you wouldn't be getting knocked up."

You smirk at that.

She asks you, "And what did your friend Tim have to say?"

"He said…" You have to think. "He said it wasn't Two-Bit's fault."

"He said that?"

No, of course he didn't. Now you have to think fast. You've reached the car. You buy yourself some time getting in and adjusting the mirrors and the seat again.

"Yeah, he said it wasn't Two-Bit's fault, and he asked if I'd bring him a pack of cigarettes."

"…and you told him 'no' because you won't be going back to visit him. Am I correct?"

"I told him I didn't have time because I was trying to get a job."

She doesn't believe you for a second. You wouldn't believe you either, given the ways you've found to see Tim in the past, but this time it's not him you're stuck on seeing.

"I swear to God, Marina…" Colleen says.

"I know, I know. The trunk."

* * *

><p>The phone rings and your heart leaps. You drop the last dish from dinner into the soapy water in the sink. It splashes you and Sodapop. He's supposed to be drying, but he's really just hanging around. He interprets the splash as an attempt to redirect him.<p>

"Alright, Jesus. You didn't have to get me all wet," he says. He swats you with the towel.

Before you can reply, Darry calls out to you. You dry your hands and go wide-eyed out into the front room. He's holding the receiver out to you.

You're almost disappointed when he asks, "Who's Shirley?"

You have no idea who Shirley is. You're annoyed with yourself at having hoped it was Ruby.

"Hello. This is Marina."

"Hi, Marina," she says. She's smacking on her gum while she talks to you. It's totally crass and unprofessional, but you know immediately who she is and where she's calling from. "Did you leave your number here today? This is Shirley, from the salon."

"Yes, that was me."

"Well, honey, I guess today is your lucky day. No one else applied, and we really need someone. Do you go to school?"

"Yes," you tell her. You have to stay in school. There's no way Darry will let this happen if you don't. "Yes, ma'am. I'm a sophomore."

She snorts when you call her 'ma'am'. "But you're sixteen, right? Can you be here by three-thirty? Maybe three-thirty to five? We close at five every night except Friday. If you could put in a few hours after school, it'd really help us out."

"Do you need references? I have references." When you ask, Darry looks up from his chair.

Shirley says, "References? What the hell for? You know how to sweep a floor, right?"

"Yes." You stop yourself before you call her 'ma'am' again.

"Okay, then. No, I don't need references. Just be here at three-thirty tomorrow. We'll get you started."

You thank her and hang up the phone. From the look Darry is giving you, you want to run out the door and into the night.

"What'd you do?" He asks you. His tone puts you ease. There's nothing threatening about it. He seems more ready to tease you than anything.

"I applied for a job, and I got it."

He smiles. "I know. Colleen told me, and she told me it would be good for you, and I agree. You get your behind right over there after school, and I'll pick you up on my way home. As long as your grades stay up…or where they are now…you can do it. It'll be a relief to have you occupied after school."

You nod. "Thanks, Darry. Do you want me to help out with…?"

"We'll talk," he says. "Let's see how much they're paying you first, but thank you for offering."

The whole conversation is so congenial; all you can do is back away from him in silence before you do something to screw it all up. You're not used to being on the receiving end of praise from anyone. It scares you, like when boys look you over and seemed pleased with what they see.

You flee back to the kitchen. Soda has been listening in and has made no progress at all with the dishes. You pick up a second towel and shake it in his face to remind him.

"What did you get a job doing?" He asks.

"Just sweeping up hair at that place where I go."

"Cool," he says. "Can't be any worse than pumping gas. You meet any cute girls, send 'em my way, you hear?"

You roll your eyes, but then you remember Sandy- alone again at Joy's house. You nod at him and go back to the dishes.


	41. Chapter 41

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Marla and Evie both have the same question for you when you get to school on Wednesday. They both want to know if you're going to learn to do hair. Marla asks you in the library, right after she asks you about Two-Bit.

"I'm glad you're back home," she tells you. "Now you can come over again. My mom will be happy to see you."

You force a smile. You don't know what that means.

You run into Evie in the girl's restroom. She more demands it than asks about it:

"You have to learn how to do hair, and then- obviously- you have to do mine. Make them show you how to do your own make-up."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You've conquered eyeliner and mascara, or so you thought. You've never had any interest in spending more time than that.

"You're a girl, Marina- time to start looking like one. God, maybe they'll take that jacket away from you."

She's grinning when she says it. She tugs on the hem of your red Pendleton on her way out of the restroom. You roll your eyes at her.

"It's almost spring," you call after her. "Won't need it in a few weeks."

"Great. Then we can start working on what you're wearing under it."

You look at yourself in the mirror over the sink and frown. You don't want to look like the girls at school. You've always known that. They all look the same, for one thing. The Soc girls and the greaser girls, you really can't see a difference from the way they dress during the day. At night, at the drive-in or the bowling alley, the greaser girls take on a more heavily made-up edge, but they still all just look like each other.

You've never given much thought to what guys wanted you to look like. Two-Bit didn't seem to care. Tim only commented that your hair was too short. Your brothers, and before them your dad, just want you to be covered up. You'd mostly been content with covered up. Then you saw Jean Seberg and you wanted that hair. Today, in the library, you riffled through the magazines until you figured out what a Factory Girl was. Edie Sedgwick has short hair, too, and wears those striped, arty shirts like Patricia in "Breathless". Edie wears those dangly earrings that Colleen was talking about.

Edie's a Soc, to be sure, but she doesn't look like any of the Soc girls around Tulsa. She walks down the streets of New York City wearing tights- just tights- with her striped shirt. You're not ready to go there just yet, but you're pretty sure you like the direction heading in.

* * *

><p>Shirley looks up from behind the counter at Diane's Cut Above when you come through the door a few minutes before three-thirty.<p>

"Hi, I'm…"

She interrupts you with a wink. "You're Marina. I remember. You were the only one."

It unnerves you a little that she keeps saying that. You wonder if someone older and more wise in the ways of sweeping floors came along, would she send you packing?

Shirley shows you around. You've met Theresa because she now cuts your hair. There is, in actuality, no Diane. Diane opened the salon, but retired some time ago. She was well-respected, though, so the new owner kept the name. The new owner is Eliza. She reminds you of Two-Bit's ex, Kathy but in a good way. You can't take your eyes off of her. She has a body like no one you've ever met. You've never stood so close to someone who smelled so good. Unlike Kathy, Eliza seems happy to have you around.

Shirley shows you to the back room where the cleaning supplies are kept. She directs you to hang up your coat and has a similar reaction to Evie's over what you're wearing underneath.

"We're going to have to work on that," she says with a wink. You're much more game for Shirley to work on you than Evie or even Marla.

Once your orientation is over, it takes about thirty seconds for them to slip back into what they were talking about before you came in. Namely, they are talking about men. You will come to realize that they talk about men all the time, but not in the way that you're used to hearing. These women all have jobs. They don't need a man to pay their rent or buy them dinner. They can do those themselves. They've transcended the financial advantages of having a boyfriend and have moved on to other things.

You know when boys talk about how many girls they've had that they're usually lying. You get the feeling that Shirley, Eliza, and Theresa are not lying about their myriad of experiences. Eliza is even divorced. You've met plenty of women whose husbands just up and left on them, but you've never met one who divorced hers.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Marina?" Theresa asks as you're wiping down her station.

You shake your head. "No. I did, but…No, not anymore."

All of their ears perk up.

Shirley says, "I can already tell he was a real son of a bitch. What'd he do?"

You can't help but smile. Two-Bit isn't really a son of a bitch, but he does do some son of a bitch things. After the last few days, you're willing to throw him over for the camaraderie of older women.

"He's in jail. He's probably going to prison."

Eliza echoes Ruby's directive: "He'd damned-well better be your ex then."

"Actually, I broke up with him before he went to jail."

"Good girl. You seen it coming, huh? God, let me tell you- don't ever find yourself waiting around on that kind of trash. I know."

Theresa gives you a wink and then rolls her eyes in Theresa's direction. "She knows."

Shirley asks you, "Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"Not really," you say, but then you change your mind. They're a much safer sounding board than the girls at school or your house full of boys. "Well, there's this guy. He's supposed to call me, but he hasn't yet, but I guess it's only been a day."

"What's he like?" Shirley asks.

"Hell with that," Theresa says. "What's he look like?"

"He's dark, got dark hair and eyes. He's a soldier, or he was. He's back now." You have no idea how to explain Ruby. Since they've chastised you about Two-Bit, you don't want to let on that Ruby's also probably still sitting in jail. You can't tell anyone that he's AWOL. You wish you'd just kept your mouth shut.

"Tall, dark, and handsome, huh?" Eliza says. "Those are the worst kind. If he's been over, how old does that make him?"

You shake your head. You don't know. You tell her as much.

"Well, is he closer to nineteen or closer to forty-five? There's a big difference. Don't make me rat you out to your brother."

"Closer to nineteen," you tell her. "Definitely."

"Well, then," she says. "When do we get to meet him?"

That's a surprise. They're all looking at you now, waiting. When you think about it, Ruby coming here is perfect. He sure can't come to your house. The truth is, you aren't one hundred percent sure he'll turn up at all, and you're sort of okay with that. Ruby is a daydream, like a vision. You know so little about him. Maybe knowing him for real won't be as good.

"I don't know," you tell Eliza. "When he calls, I guess. If he calls."

"He'll call," she says. "He'd better. You're too cute to pass up."

The conversation ends when another customer comes in. Shirley calls you over to the counter to show you how to run the register.

"In case I ever need to have a cigarette…" She explains.

Theresa calls out, "…which is about ever fifteen minutes. You'd better learn how to run that register, Marina."

It isn't difficult. You've taken customer's money a few times for Soda at the DX. When Theresa's customer is ready to leave, Shirley lets you check her out while she writes down the next appointment. The woman leaves a tip and Theresa gives you half.

"Take it. Buy yourself a beer and get over that boy in jail."

"She's sixteen, Theresa," Shirley says.

"Fine. Buy yourself a Coke. Just move on."

You nod and look down at the counter. Shirley has the appointment book open. You see Sylvia's name in one of the slots for the next week.

"Sylvia still come by?" You ask her.

Shirley nods. "Yeah, every two weeks. We didn't see her for a while, but she couldn't stay away. Eliza's the only one in town who can handle that platinum blonde without it going all-the-way white. Looks like she's coming at three-fifteen on Tuesday, so she ought to still be here. Do you know her pretty well?"

You shake your head. "No, she just used to cut my hair, and we had some mutual friends."

"Did you know that boyfriend she used to have? The one who died?"

"Yeah, he was a friend of mine too."

"My condolences. To hear Sylvia tell it, he was one hell of a catch."

Eliza passes by the counter and says, "If you could catch him and hold on. From what I hear, she had all kinds of trouble with him."

"He was troublesome," you tell her. You can't help but smile. Knowing that Sylvia really did love Dally makes it okay for you to miss him so much yourself.

Darry comes in at a quarter after five. The salon girls grow quiet in his presence and he seems uncomfortable. You introduce him, but the awkward silence prevails.

As you're getting your jacket, Shirley brushes past you in the back room.

"Are you serious? That is your brother?"

"You know him?"

"No, but I think I should. He going to pick you up every day?"

You shrug. "I guess so."

"Well, then. I guess I'll be getting to know him."

You grin at her. "I got two other brothers, too."

"This one'll do," she says and pushes you back up front.

You tell them goodnight. Darry mumbles something and follows you out on to the street.

"I'm never going in there again," he tells you. "From now on, you just meet me at the truck."

He's grinning though, and shaking his head. You think back to Valentine's Day and how you'd wished Darry had someone to spend it with.

You and Darry chat about each other's days at work on the way home. It still feels weird- having a conversation on this level with Darry. You feel like an adult, but not in the way you thought you would when you lost your virginity to Two-Bit. You thought that would make you feel different, but it just made you feel trapped instead. Talking about work with Darry makes you feel like you're worth something.

* * *

><p>At home, Soda has dinner started. It smells awful. You aren't even sure what kind of meat he's preparing. You exchange glances at Ponyboy, who is reading on the couch. He rolls back and pretends to die.<p>

Darry pushes past you and heads to the kitchen, telling you, "I might still be in time to save this."

"We're counting on you, Superman," you tell him.

Ponyboy sits up again.

"Hey, some guy called for you."

You glare at him and jerk your head towards the kitchen, imploring him to speak more softly.

He says, again, this time in an exaggerated whisper, "Hey, some guy called for you."

"Thank you," you whisper back. "Who was it?"

"Said his name was Gil. Who's Gil?"

You ignore his question. "Did he leave a message? Am I supposed to call him?"

"No," Pony says, shaking his head. "He just said he'd see you at school. Oh, is that Gilbert Hutchinson? He's kind of…well, that's a departure from Two-Bit, to be sure."

Gilbert Hutchinson is a freshman. Curly Shepard made a hobby of beating him up on the playground in grades school. Gilbert still flinches whenever he sees Curly in the hall. In fact, he flinches when he sees any of you who he associates with Curly.

"I don't know. Maybe," you tell Ponyboy. "We have science together. Maybe he wanted my notes."

Ponyboy laughs out loud at that.

"Shut up," you tell him and bolt for your room.

School- how the hell does Ruby even know where you go to school? And how is he going to meet you there? He looks young, but he's obviously not a student. Maybe it was just a line. Maybe he just said it to throw Ponyboy off. He's probably not going to meet you at all.

"Dinner is served!" Darry shouts from the kitchen.

"Chicken ala Soda!" Soda calls out.

"That's chicken?" Ponyboy answers.

You choke down a wave of nausea as you head for the dining room table. You aren't sure whether it's nerves or Soda's chicken that has your stomach in knots.


	42. Chapter 42

I do not own The Outsiders.

Yes, it has been a while.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble- Forty-Two**

It's like a flashback. You glance out the window during fifth hour and he's there across the street, leaning against the bus stop sign. He's smoking a cigarette just like Dally was the day you stole the car. He looks up at the window as if he knows you've spotted him. You look away from him and up at the clock. There are two more hours of school left. Dally was only willing to wait 20 minutes. You wonder if Gilbert Ruby Junior will hold out for two hours.

His presence is a threat to everything good you have going for you now. You've shed your prison-bound boyfriend. You have a job. If you skip class to see him, Darry will make you quit at Diane's. You start getting mad at Ruby for being there and tempting you. Then- as the final minutes of American Lit. drag by and you sit still for them- you realize that the decision is all in your hands. You stay stuck in your chair, and when the bell rings you go to your sixth hour class.

Still, it's torture. Sixth and Seventh hour both find you on the other side of the building. You can't see the bus stop. By the time the final bell rings, you're convinced he won't be there. You're almost convinced that he was never there to begin with.

But when you finally get to your locker, you dawdle with your books and your coat. You don't know what you're doing or what you want or expect to happen. The two times you've seen him before you've been supervised or restrained. The option to go somewhere with him wasn't a possibility.

You walk slowly to the front steps of the school. Through the throng around the doors, you can see he's still there across the street. Horror of horrors- it now dawns on you that you'll look like every other high school girl walking through those doors. It would be the safest thing- for him to see you're just a kid and be disappointed, but it makes your heart sink just the same.

You step outside into the sunlight and walk down the lawn of the school. When you get to the curb, he sees you. He's sitting on the back of the bus stop bench now, still smoking. He raises his eyebrows at you and grins, but makes no move to stand.

"It's freezing out here," he says when you reach him. It's not a complaint, just an observation.

"You been standing here long enough."

"Yeah, I didn't know what time it was, so I just stayed put. "

"I got to go to work," you tell him.

"You walking or driving?"

"Bus," you say.

"You want company?"

You nod. Your heart sits in your throat until the bus arrives. You're afraid of what might happen if one of your brothers or their friends sees you with Ruby. You sit a safe distance from him on the bench until the bus arrives. When it does, you pay both of your fares and the two of you head to the back.

Then, when the bus pulls away, he stretches and put his arm around you just like he's been doing it every day since Oklahoma City. You straighten up a little and he pulls his arm away. He leans forward and folds his arms across his knees. He looks back at you and grins.

"You still sixteen?" He asks.

You nod.

"Man alive. One way or another seems I'm bent on going to jail."

"How come you ain't there now?"

"Divine intervention, I guess. Wasn't meant to be. Eventually, I'll have to go back, just not today." He squints into space when he says it. There's more to it than he's telling you. You want to ask, but the bus is loud and you don't want to shout. You lean back in your seat, wishing Ruby's arm was still there, and ride in silence.

* * *

><p>When the bus gets closer to downtown, you tell him there's a stop at the end of the block where you work. He takes the hint and suggests that you get off at the one before it.<p>

"You're not going to freeze to death, are you?" You ask him.

"I'm sufficiently warmed," he tells you and winks.

On the street you catch yourself looking up at him and he catches himself looking up at the buildings. He grins.

"I could never get used to this," he says. "You like living here?"

"I don't live here. I like in a neighborhood...it's that way...There's just houses and yards." You stop short of saying that there's grass, but most of the time there isn't. There's bare dirt and broken glass and weeds. Old car parts.

"Vietnam's just the same- trees so tall you can't see out."

You wait for more, but Ruby doesn't say anything. He frowns straight ahead like he's sorry he said it. Unsure of your next move, you let your hand bump his. He weaves his fingers into yours and squeezes. Your heart races faster in your chest the closer you come to Diane's. You don't get it: this is all that could ever happen with him, and after today, most likely you'll never see him again.

You sigh and he seems to understand. He slows your pace and lets go of your hand.

"That it?" He nods towards the salon entrance.

You nod at the ground. He pokes at your toe with his.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he tells you. "When school gets out. You and me'll take another ride."

You nod and the two of you stand in front of Diane's for an awkward moment. You're both aware of the eyes on you from inside the salon.

You hike your thumb in their direction. "I got to…"

"Yeah," he says. He leans forward like he's going to kiss you and then backs off again. He grins, steps away and opens the door of the salon for you to go inside. When you turn, he's gone. The smell of chemicals overpowers the smell of his cigarettes and-again- you're not sure he was ever there.

"That him?" Theresa asks.

You nod. They're all between customers. They've had nothing to do but watch you and Ruby through the window and formulate judgments.

Shirley says, "He's an Indian."

You shrug. You hadn't thought about it.

"He going to take you out?" Theresa gives Shirley a strange look as she's saying it.

"I don't know." You tell her. "My brother hasn't met him. I don't know when he'd take me out."

"Tell you what," Eliza says. "You bring him in here to meet me tomorrow, and I'll let him take you out."

You frown. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're open late on Friday nights. You tell your brother you got to work until nine and I'll let you have a nice long dinner break with soldier boy instead."

You and the other two look at her. Shirley, of course, is hesitant to do anything that might jeopardize getting to know Darry better. Theresa, on the other hand, thinks this is a wonderful idea.

"Bring some clothes," she says. "You can change and get cleaned up a little here."

You nod. The bell above the door rings and jars you. You pick up your bag and head to the back room to get your broom and apron. When you turn around, Eliza is standing against the door frame. She's smiling at you, shaking her head.

"Just so you know- this isn't free reign to run off all night and do whatever you want. You got to tell me what you do know about him and then- if I like what I hear- the two of you have until about 8:45. A minute later, and I'll hand you over to your brother. And I'll fire you. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

And because she's beautiful and wise in the ways of men, you'd never dream of disobeying Eliza the way you would Darry and Colleen and Tim Shepard. You slip past her out of the storeroom, broom in hand, and hope that she and the others intend to spend the next two hours filling you with their wisdom.


	43. Chapter 43

I do not own The Outsiders.

This chapter is longer and more stuff happens.

**Hey Darling', Do You Gamble? - Forty- Three**

You tell Ruby- you can't stop calling him Ruby in your head- about Eliza's offer the next day when he meets you at the bus stop.

"Oh, yeah?" he says. "She one of the one's in the window last night? She looked me over and liked what she saw, huh? Did you tell her how old I am?"

"I don't know how old you are."

"I'm twenty-one now. I was twenty when we met."

You twist your lips up and look out the bus window. You're afraid he might be stalling. Maybe he doesn't want to go out with you.

Then the world springs right back to life when he says, "Well, alright. Where do you want to go, Miss Tulsa?"

Per Eliza's instructions, you are not to go very far. There's a diner two blocks in each direction down the street from Diane's. You aren't to get in a car with him and go off anywhere.

"I don't think he has a car," You told her. "At least not here."

She cocked her expertly arched eyebrow at you. "Did Jailhouse Rock have a car?"

She keeps coming up with nicknames for Two-Bit- like he needs another one- always from songs about jail: Cell 44, Louisiana Stripes.

"Yeah, a crappy one."

"Yeah, but he had a car. I don't know if you're moving up or down in the world, Marina."

You're not so sure yourself. You feel sick when Ruby isn't around. At lunch, Pony, Soda, and Steve divided up your lunch. None of them prodded for more information about your mysterious illness after you told them it was "a girl thing". The nausea evaporated as soon as you saw Ruby waiting at the bus stop.

Dinner and a walk sounds alright with Ruby, although he would have preferred to take a way away from the tall buildings. He frowns off into space again- a sign that he's searching for the right words- and then he asks you:

"And your boss is alright with me being…not one of you?"

"Like how do you mean?"

He grins and raises his arms so that it's parallel to yours. He's dark from being out in the sun, but he's dark anyway- darker than Johnny was.

You just shrug.

"What about your brother?"

You admit, "I didn't ask my brother."

His smile fades. There's s genuine sadness in his eyes. He's offended.

"Not because of that," you tell him. "Darry wouldn't care, I don't think. I think the age difference would bother him."

He nods.

"What about your family?" You ask him. "Would it bother them- if they knew you went out with white girls?"

The grin is back. He shakes his head and then elbows you in the arm.

"I give my family so many other things to worry about. White girls are pretty low down on the list of my indiscretions."

"It's sort of the same with me," You tell him.

"Shit, what indiscretions you got, darlin'? You ain't old enough…like I need to keep reminding myself."

"Well, there was that stolen car…"

"Sounds to me like you was coerced into that."

"It didn't take much coercing."

You tell him you've been in a roadhouse and drank there. He rolls his eyes. It makes you feel like a kid when he does it, so you roll yours back and look away.

Your pouting amuses him. He cackles, calls you an innocent, and puts his arm across the back of the seat behind you. You pout for a moment more- until you can't stand it- and then sink back against him. You stay like that until the bus stops.

When he's gone and you're at work, the wave of nausea overtakes you again. Every time he disappears, you figure it will be for the last time. It's not a subject you're willing or have had opportunity to broach with him. Shirley's referred to him several times as a fling, and you figure she's right about that. Ruby's life when he's out of sight is never going to be any of your business.

When he comes back a few minutes after five, you're surprised enough to shut your fingers in the register. You hold up one finger to tell him to wait. Then you turn around to cuss at the wall.

You catch sight of yourself in one of the many mirrors. Theresa put a little make-up on you. It's subtle. Not any more than what you wear to school, but she's better at it. You're wearing a dark blue cardigan that Eliza brought in for you. It clings and she says it brings out your eyes. You wish for all the world you had dangly earrings like Colleen had talked about.

"Well, tell him to get in here," Eliza says.

You look at her wide-eyed as you shake out your still-smarting fingers. This was not part of your deal with her.

"Oh yes, he's coming in," she tells you.

You beckon him through the window. He shrugs and opens the door. The salon smells hits him and he wrinkles his nose. He holds out his hand to Eliza.

"Gilbert Ruby," he says.

"Eliza. I'm her boss."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, like she's his boss now too.

"You have her back here at eight-thirty or it's my ass and I will take you down with me, Mr. Ruby."

"Yes, ma'am," he says again. Being called "Mr. Ruby" amuses him.

Eliza nods at you and you step out from behind the counter. Ruby raises his eyebrows like you look good to him and opens the door.

"Eight-thirty," He says to Eliza, nods to Shirley and Theresa, and follows you out on the street.

You chose the diner furthest from Diane's. It's more of a bar and grill. It's dark and serves beer. The backs of the booths are higher and it seems like a place given to hiding out. You slide into a booth and Ruby slides in next to you. Before you can say a word, his arm is around your shoulders and he's kissing you. He keeps kissing you until the waitress shows up and clears her throat.

You wish he'd start up again when she takes your orders and departs, but he doesn't. He knits his fingers together in front of them on the table and looks back at you. You turn yourself in the corner of the booth to face him.

"So, Nebraska…" You say. You just want to watch him talk and you know he doesn't want to talk about the Army. What you really want to know is what he's still doing in Tulsa and how long he's going to stay. You're afraid to ask outright. Maybe you can work him up to it.

He waits for the waitress to come back with the Cokes, and then he begins- telling you about half of what you want to know.

Gilbert Ruby, of Macy, Nebraska, has been on the run longer than he led you to believe. He joined the Army right out of high school, at his father's insistence, and went AWOL within a week because he didn't like it. They caught him and brought him back.

"I don't know how to explain it if you've never been to a place like Haskell, but we used to take off from there all the time. They'd find us and haul us back. It was like a game. I guess I just kept playing the Army like it was a game."

The Army trumped his hand, however, when they sent him to Vietnam and there was nowhere to run.

"My old man keeps telling me what's going to happen is going to happen, so quit trying to outrun it. He says he's sick of me showing up on his doorstep every few months. Scares the hell out of him. Every time he sees me he thinks he's seeing a ghost."

You look down at your lap.

"Your dad thinks you're going to die, too?"

"Hell, he's the one who told me. He keeps dreaming it. It's not like he wants me to, but it's what's going to happen."

"I had a dream about you, too, and you didn't die. You didn't go back. You…" you choke because the memory still scares you. Ruby raises an eyebrow at you. You tell him, "You said you traded places with someone. You didn't have to go."

Ruby shakes his head. "Sounds like something shady I'd do. Nah, I can't do that though. Wouldn't be right. Bad shit would just keep happening to me if I did something like that."

"So, when are you going to go?"

"When I feel like it, I guess. My cousin and my buddy are still down here working the stockyards. Might as well spend some time with them before I take off. And you."

You nod, but keep staring down at your lap. There aren't tears in your eyes yet, but your head hurts from holding them back. You feel his fingers on your chin. He tips your face up to look at him.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he says. "I shoulda left you alone in the bus station when I saw you. You're just so…shit, even if I say that it sounds like it's your fault. It's my fault. I'm kind of an asshole. I'll introduce you to Sonny and Rodeo- my buddy and my cousin. They'll tell you. 'Junior's a sonofabitch'. You want- let's go right now. I'll walk you back to your work and you'll never see me again. You'll never have to know…"

You open your mouth to tell him no, that's not what you want at all, but you kiss him instead. His hand moves down from your chin and around to the back of your neck. When it stops, he doesn't pull away completely. He presses his forehead against yours and smiles at you.

This time it isn't the waitress who distracts you. It's the outside door opening. A girl walks in when the door is held open for her. She's pretty, you guess, but tired-looking. It isn't really her that has your attention. It's the voice that's speaking to her and following her in from the outside.

"Holy shit," you whisper to Ruby.

His eyes widen and he pulls away from you. He sits up straight and takes his hands off of you, but you pull him by the arm again in an attempt to hide behind him.

"Well, that's not a cop," he says, confused. "Or an MP."

"He's a friend of my brother's," you whisper to him.

"Is that going to be a problem? I bet I could take 'im."

"The girl's kind of a problem."

Ruby looks back at you and grins. "I bet I could take her too."

"That's not his girlfriend," you tell Ruby.

Steve Randle must already be feeling guilty because he hears it when you say the word "girlfriend". He looks right at you. His eyes widen and then narrow. Then he looks at Ruby and smirks.

He taps his companion on the arm and gestures towards your booth. She looks reluctant, but follows him anyway.

"What's going on, Marina?" He asks you. As much as he tries to play it light, his eyes are still nervous. He wants to be sure that it's clear the two of you are caught in a stalemate.

"Nothing's going on, Stevie. I don't know your friend."

"I don't know yours," he says, but doesn't introduce himself. He's sizing Ruby up. Ruby's right: he's taller than Steve and in manual labor kind shape, but Steve always has a blade. Ruby doesn't seem like the kind of guy to carry a blade.

Ruby stretches his fingers in front of him. Looks back up at Steve and asks, "Would you care to join us? Any friend of Marina's…"

"I thought Marina was supposed to be at work."

You say, "I thought you were supposed to be with E-…"

Ruby cuts you off, "we's just catching a bite to eat and then she'll be right back at it. Y'all going to sit down? 'Cause if you ain't, you're standing in the way of the waitress."

Steve and the girl move aside. There's something about her- aside from the fact that she's not Evie- that you don't like. There's a funny look in her eyes, like she isn't quite following what's being said.

"I think we'll just find our own spot," Steve says. "See you later, Marina."

"Have a lovely evening," you mumble.

Ruby peers sideways at you and grins.

"You can run but you can't hide, I guess," he says. "Just like me. Eat your food and let's get the hell out of here."

You nod in agreement and he adds, "That girl's doped up."

You frown and wait for him to elaborate. He doesn't. He shakes his head and points to your food.


	44. Chapter 44

I do not own The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble- Forty-Four**

"Let me see if I got this straight," Ruby says to you once you're safely out of the diner and back on the sidewalk. "You got one friend killed a kid, one that got himself shot, an ex-boyfriend that's getting sent to the pen, and that guy…I take back everything I said before about me bein' no good. Darlin', I'm the nicest friend you got."

"What's wrong with Steve?" You can think of dozens of things that are wrong with Steve Randle all by yourself, but you want to know what Ruby's getting at.

"I told you- that girl of his is doped up."

"That's not his girl."

"Well, toss that on the heap, then. The first problem is that the only possibilities I can think of for a guy being with a girl like that- the one that ain't his- is that he's using _with_ her or he's using her because she's too looped to care. Know what I mean?"

You nod. You look up at him and once again the paradigm shifts: You're not a couple kissing in a booth in a diner anymore. Ruby is the adult and you are the kid waiting for him to impart knowledge.

He tells you- and you can see he's choosing his words more carefully now- that he saw plenty of it in 'Nam. They give morphine to the soldiers in little vials as part of their personal first-aid kits. It's supposed to be just enough to take the edge off in case they get shot and have to wait for help to come. Some guys can stick to that and be fine, but with others it seems all it takes is a taste. Ruby was never sure which one he would be, so he always chucked his morphine whenever he got a new kit. Once, he traded another soldier for weed, but he never felt right about it.

Around the city, church bells begin to strike eight. You have a half hour left of your date.

"Gonna be a long weekend," Ruby says.

"Why's that?"

"Well, if you ain't telling your brother about me, I'm guessing I won't see you all weekend." He's digging; he's implying that you should tell Darry about him. You don't want to. You want to keep him separate. You want to have a separate life from guys like Steve and Two-Bit and things that happen like Dally and Johnny.

"Where are you staying?" You ask him.

"Some roadhouse out by the stockyards."

You groan and whisper, "Criminy," and he grins.

"You know it then?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"Well, there's three of us sharing a room," he tells you. "So, you ain't coming back there with me. Unless you want to play cards with Sonny and Rodeo. How's about we just walk?"

You agree to that. You ask him if Rodeo's name is really Rodeo.

"Of course not. Who'd name their kid Rodeo? Nah, he's named Audie…like Audie Murphy. Don't know what my auntie was thinking there either, to name him after a movie cowboy. Big Indian dude named after a cowboy. It's a crime against nature. We just call him Rodeo. Sonny's a Junior. I think his name is George. Never really knew for sure. Only time I hear his real name's when he's in jail."

"Which is when you're in jail with him," You remind him.

"Those times are few and far between, I assure you," he says, but he's grinning up at the sky and you guess he's full of shit.

"What are you going to do this weekend?"

"Most likely rope steers and drink. Unless you got a better idea."

"I bet I could talk my way into going to a rodeo. We used to go all the time before my parents died."

"Uh huh," he says. He picks up your hand and spins you around in front of him. "You think you're going to get to do that unattended? Because I don't see that happening. In fact, if I put any thought to it at all, I start to imagine what if I had a little sister and how I wouldn't want her at any rodeo meeting up with a guy like me."

He's enjoying this though. The temptation to raise a little hell is too much for him. He's a natural-born trickster.

"Then don't imagine that," you tell him. "Imagine something else."

He raises his eyebrows at you and pushes you forward in front of him. You've almost reached the window in front of Diane's. He waits until you're fully in front of it- like two figures on a movie screen for the inhabitants inside to see- before he snaps you close and kisses you.

The two of you stand out there so long that Eliza comes to the window and pounds on it.

"Don't bring her to the rodeo," Ruby whispers to you. He nods to Eliza on the other side of the window, pinches your arm, and darts off into the night. You watch him go this time to be sure he doesn't just disappear into the air.

Inside Diane's, before Eliza can say anything, Theresa says, "Can he kiss like a sonofabitch? Because he looks like he can kiss like a sonofabitch."

You smile like an idiot.

"Look at her- she's dumbstruck," Shirley says.

"I'm going to regret this," Eliza says. "Christ, this is why I never had children."

* * *

><p>"Did you spill something?" Darry asks you when you get in the truck. "I've never seen that sweater."<p>

"Yeah," You tell him. "One of the sinks splashed back. Theresa let me borrow this."

He says, "Well, it looks nice. Dare I say, you look like a girl."

You smirk at the truck window. You have goose bumps underneath the sweater. You can't keep your thoughts together. You're lucky you were able to lie about the sweater and the sink.

You try to think of a way to ask Darry about Steve that won't let on that you saw him in a diner and not at work. You could say you saw him walk by the window, but there's no law that says Steve can't walk down the street with a girl. Darry would tell you to mind your own business.

For once, your house doesn't seem quiet and hollow without Two-Bit bouncing off its walls. You have the sense that you might be glowing and you duck through the living room and into the bathroom to take a look in the mirror.

Your cheeks do seem flushed, but the color drains right out of them again when you hear the screen door slam and Steve's voice saying, "Hey, buddy" to Sodapop. He tells Soda that their boss at the DX asked him to come in tomorrow and shelve a delivery of parts. He knows Soda can't because- miracle of miracles- Soda has a school thing. It's no big deal- no heavy lifting; Steve was thinking maybe Marina could help.

"Pony can help you, I bet," Soda says.

"English paper," Pony calls from the kitchen. He's making sandwiches. It's been three hours since dinner, and he and Soda are hungry again.

"Ain't no big deal," Steve says. "It'll only take an hour, but it'll take 20 minutes if I got a little help."

"I don't know, ask her," Soda says, and then shouts, "Marina!"

You sigh and go out into the front room. Steve is lying on the floor in front of the TV.

"You hear all that?" He asks you without looking up. "You think you could help me out for a few minutes tomorrow morning?"

"Of course," you tell him. Maybe he can help you out, too, since everyone's being helpful. He can help you get to the rodeo grounds and then cover for you while you spend the afternoon there.

Steve nods, still not looking at you. "Good deal. I'll pick you up about nine. That too early?"

"It's perfect," you reply.

Pony calls out that sandwiches are served. You tell him you're not hungry and go to your room to comb the contents of your dresser for something you can change into tomorrow before leaving the DX.

* * *

><p>Dally's waiting for you at the rodeo, leaning against a fence. He chucks his cigarette butt into the arena. He looks you over from the corner of his eye when you come up beside him.<p>

"Little Marina, all grown up," he says. Coming from him, it sounds like a criminal activity.

"Shut the hell up," you tell him.

"Why're you here? I thought your dad didn't let you go anymore."

"My dad's dead. For that matter, so are you. Why are you here?"

"Because this is where the action is. I'm always where the action is. What's the action today?"

You climb up to stand on the bottom rung of the fence. It makes you taller than him. He rolls his eyes, annoyed.

"I'm meeting someone," you tell him.

"And it ain't me?"

"No, it ain't. Again- you're dead, remember?"

"You don't have to rub it in. So who's this dashing young man?"

"His name's Gil. He ain't from around here. He's not like you all."

Dally smirks. He turns around and puts his back to the fence. He lights another cigarette, takes a drag, and offers it to you.

"Let's see…he goes to rodeos and you're sneaking around to see him…how is he not like me again?"

You smoke in silence for a minute. He gets impatient and snatches the cigarette back.

Finally, you ask Dally because you want to ask someone but you're afraid to say it out loud to anyone else:

"Dally, did you love Sylvia?"

He snorts.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. How'd you know? That you were in love, how'd you know it?"

Dally rolls his eyes. He finishes of the cigarette and turns around to face the fence again. He waits for a horse and rider to pass and then flicks the cigarette butt. It hits the horse in the rump. The horse startles and takes off, tossing the rider into the dirt.

"Because I felt sick. It made me feel sick to see her and sick to not see her. I hated it. I was always sick and waiting around for her to cure me. Instead, she just snuck around and strung me along. Watched me get sicker."

"She wasn't running around on you, Dal," you say. It never occurred to you before, but it seems as clear as the rodeo arena before you in your dream. "She has a daughter. She was sneaking back to the south side to see her daughter."

"What difference does it make? It make you feel any better that your old man's going to sneak off to Vietnam? Cheating's cheating. Don't matter who or what with."

"I think the Vietnam thing preceded me."

"Then he's cheating on Vietnam with you. Who cares? Eventually everybody leaves, dummy. Me- I got wise and learned to leave first. Showed you, didn't I?"

"You showed Sylvia."

He shakes his head. "I showed you. You were the girl, Marina. Two-Bit sees it. Curly sees it. Hell, Timmy sees something. He doesn't have the hots for you, so don't get all excited. Just can't stand to see you get hurt. You've almost reached Angela status with him. Looks like you got wise to all of 'em too and did the leaving first. Except this last one- he's going to rip you in two. I sure as shit don't want to be around to see him do it."

Tears burn in your eyes. Only from Dally could a confession like that be so brutal.

"Well, then don't be," you tell him. "Just go."

When you wipe your eyes and can see clearly again, he has. He's gone. The arena is empty, abandoned.


	45. Chapter 45

SE Hinton = Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?- Forty-Five**

Soda is up before both you and your alarm. He's been recruited to help build a set by the theatre kids at school. You never took Soda for a theatre guy. You suspect his enthusiasm has something to do with theatre girls.

The two of you are alone in the house when you emerge from the bathroom, freshly showered. He frowns like he guesses something is amiss- why would you take a shower to go shelve parts with Steve?

You cut him off before he can question it out loud:

"Do you ever have really creepy dreams?"

He grins as you and shakes his head.

"Uh-uh…my dreams are good." He drags out the word 'good' for emphasis.

"Shut up. Do you ever dream about dead people? Like Dally?"

"Ugh, you have dreams about Dally? No wonder you're acting so weird."

"I'm acting weird?" You feel the flush creep back into your cheeks. You like it. It's as warm as kissing Ruby in front of Diane's and realizing everyone inside is staring.

"Well, _weirder_," Soda says. "Flakier, except you seem happy. Does dreaming about Dally make you happy, Marina? Because if that's the case, please, allow me to make you a really strong pot of coffee."

You roll your eyes and throw a pillow from the chair at him. He lets it hit him and then falls back on the sofa. He waits until you're headed towards the kitchen and a safe distance away before he asks:

"What are you so damned happy about these last few days?"

You lie, "I don't know."

"Well, may I suggest you _don't_ go see Two-Bit? I went to see him. It's bad. Don't go see Two-Bit."

"I wasn't going to."

"Good."

Silence from Soda except for the tapping of his foot. You sigh. He brought it up and now he's prepared to wait until it burrows its way into your head and you can no longer stand it.

"Why do you want me to go see Two-Bit, Soda?"

"Didn't say you should. You shouldn't. Not if you're feeling so damned happy. Christ, you're downright perky. It's like you're possessed. Are you possessed by Dally?"

"Would you expect perky from someone possessed by Dally?"

Soda throws the pillow back at you. He snarls and wiggles his fingers- his version of possessed behavior.

He says: "Two-Bit wants to see you. He's convinced he's getting sent down. He wants to see you before he goes."

"Doesn't he get a trial first or something?"

"Am I his lawyer now? I don't know. He said something about they're trying to decide whether or not to try him and Shepard together or separately. I don't get it. Anyway, don't go see Two-Bit. Unless you really want to."

Steve pulls up outside. He bears down on the horn like he's fallen unconscious against it.

"Your chariot awaits," Soda says. "Have fun doing my work."

"You're welcome," you tell him. You hit him hard over the head with the pillow on your way out the door. He pops up from behind it again and gives you his best demonic snarl.

* * *

><p>Steve doesn't say a word to you when you get in the car or on the entire ride to the DX. It's one long, uncomfortable ride. Only the radio saves you- the weather, the stock report, Waylon Jennings, more of the same weather. You watch the neighborhood slip away behind you from the side mirror.<p>

When you get to the DX, you follow him through the garage entrance. Steve picks up a UPS box sitting on the floor and kicks another one ahead of him towards the store room. He has no intention of letting you carry anything. Your purpose here was never to help.

You follow him to the store room and wait. He sets the first box down on top of the other, turns around and leans back against the wall. He folds his arms across his chest.

"Shall I get this started? Good to see you're moving on from Two-Bit, Marina." He's baiting you and it works.

"Jesus Christ, Steve," you squeak at him. "Some of us like to be done with one before we move on to the next. First there's Sandy, and you're stepping out on Evie…"

"Hey, Sandy is long over and long gone…"

"She's in a girl's home across town."

He raises his eyebrows.

"You're shitting me."

You shake your head. You regret saying it, but you can't help but be relieved that mention of Sandy has diverted his attention from you.

"She was there when they sent me. They're going to take her baby and adopt it out. She's frantic."

"Shit, that's my baby." He looks more puzzled than alarmed. "They can't just adopt out my baby without my say-so, can they?"

"I don't know. I don't think anyone was expecting you to say anything. Before we move on, could you tell me a little bit about the dope fiend you were having dinner with last night?"

"Who says she's a dope fiend- _your_ little dinner date? He know a dope fiend when he sees one?"

"He said he's seen plenty of that in Vietnam."

Steve spits out a laugh.

"In Vietnam? How old is he, Marina?"

"Same age as Darry."

"So, we're both seeing people we shouldn't be seeing. What do we do here?"

You roll your eyes. "We go back to the Sandy part of the discussion, I guess."

"I'm good with that. You think she'd want to see me?"

You doubt it, but you tell him, "I think she'd be fine seeing anyone who'd help her keep her baby. I told her I'd help her, but I haven't been able to figure out how."

"Secretly seeing a twenty-one year old soldier was a fabulous start. Is he from around here? He doesn't look like he's from around here." Steve is hell-bent on dragging the discussion back to Ruby.

"He's from Nebraska."

"Not what I meant."

"He's an Indian, so he's probably more from around here than you and me."

Steve cracks a grin and mumbles, "nice one".

He runs his hands through his hair and turns away from you. He begins to pace.

"So the right thing to do here would be…" He begins. "God, I'm so sick of this mayhem. Does shit just ever slow down around here for just a little while?"

"I'd suppose it would if we'd quit stirring it up." You catch yourself smiling when you say it, remembering Two-Bit imploring you to stay out of the water.

Steve smiles, too, and nods. He leans back against the wall again and lets himself slide down to sit on the floor.

"I'm seventeen," he says to you. His eyes are big and baffled like a kid's.

"I'm aware."

"Yeah, shut up. I'm thinking here. I'm eighteen next month. I don't want to get married. I just want someone to fucking know that. Be my witness. The right thing to do, however, would be to marry her so she can keep her baby. Soon as I graduate, I can join the Army. I can take care of them both, but never have to see them. It will be an American dream."

You frown. You sit down against the wall opposite him and watch him. This isn't the move you were expecting from him. Still, he seems hell-bent on self-destruction one way or another.

"Soda'll never speak to me again," he says.

"He knows, Steve. He told me. He already knows. He just doesn't let on."

"Well, me marrying her would sort of take that out of his hands. He'd never speak to me again, and why the hell would he?" He pauses to digest that and then says, "Will you take me there? The place where they got her?"

You never even thought, until now, that Sandy should have some choice in the matter. At Joy's house, she never mentioned Steve unless you brought him up. She only asked about Soda.

You shrug but Steve takes it as a 'yes'.

He tells you, "I'll drive."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Before I lose my balls and run for it. Now. Let's go."

He's up on his feet in one light jump. You stand up more slowly. He walks out of the DX garage with purpose, like he's off to a rumble or to play a game of football. He looks back a couple of times to see if you're following.

He opens the passenger door for you and you get in. When he's behind the driver's seat next to you, he says, "So tell me about your soldier boy, will you? I ain't going to sell you out. Just talk about something else so I don't have to think about this."

"He's just a friend."

Steve laughs at that. "And where does one make such friends, 'Rina?"

"In the bus station. Where does one make the kind of friend like you were with last night?"

"Shit," he hisses. "One makes those kinds of friends at parties when one is a little drunk and looking for a diversion. Came to find out I like it. It takes the edge off. Now I just meet up with her now and then, whenever I feel the need to be diverted."

"Are you kidding? She's your dealer?"

"No, she's not the dealer. She _has_ a dealer. She and I have a common habit. Maybe 'habit' ain't the right word. It ain't a habit. Don't worry about it. Tell me about your lover boy."

You aren't done yet. "Does Soda do it?"

"Christ, no," he says, but guesses where this line of questioning will lead. "Two-Bit's dabbled. Tim Shepard, oddly no. He's just weird all on his own. Talk."

"Two-Bit? When did Two-Bit start…?"

"Shit, Marina, I don't know. You were supposed to be his girl. I thought you'd have known. He only tried it once or twice. Obviously, he ain't doing it right now. Where am I going here?"

You point at the street ahead and mumble a few directions.

"Where'd you meet him?" Steve asks again. "Come on. We've got mere minutes left of me being your brother's best friend. I won't have any obligation to ask you after this goes down."

"I'll just bide my time then."

Steve mumbles, "fuck" to himself, but doesn't ask you again. You tell him "left" and "right" and not much else until you reach Joy's house. He puts the car in park across the street, takes the keys from the ignition and drops them in your lap.

"You might as well drive it home. God knows how long this is going to take." He pauses there and smirks. "I suppose about the next eighteen years of my life, huh? Anyway, take the car. I'll pick it up later."

"I ain't allowed to drive," you remind him.

"Then drive really, really carefully," he tells you, irritated, and gets out.

You sit still in the passenger seat. He turns around when he reaches the fence and waves you along. You slide over and put the keys in the ignition. You sit in the car with the engine running until someone answers the door and Steve disappears inside. It feels like this is the last time you're going to see him.

He'll be gone from your life like Dally and Johnny and your parents. You thought families were supposed to get bigger, not smaller and smaller.

It's not quite noon. It's still chilly outside and the rodeo won't get started until after lunch. You don't know if it's because of what Soda said or what Steve just did or because you simply have the time that you drive downtown to pay a visit to Two-Bit.


	46. Chapter 46

SE Hinton owns it.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Forty-Six-

There's no one behind the counter when you arrive at the jail. You stand on your toes to peer around.

"Hey, honey," a voice says from behind you. "You got here just in time."

Tim Shepard is sitting on a bench. He's wearing his own clothes and he isn't shackled or handcuffed. He's shaved and his hair is slicked into place. You figure he's just gotten out of court.

"In time for what?" You ask him.

"In time to give me a ride. You drove here, right?" His eyes widen and he grins. He ducks his head and whispers, "Oh, we're not supposed to say that, are we? But you drove, right?"

"You're in jail. I'm not taking you anywhere."

"That's where you're wrong, baby. I am very much _not_ in jail. I mean, I'm sitting here in The Jail, but I'm not incarcerated in it. I'm a free man."

You take a step back against the counter.

"What about Two-Bit?"

"Ah, shit. Was it him you were here to see? I thought you and him were split. I thought you came to give me a ride."

"Shepard," the guard's voice makes you jump. You didn't hear him come up behind you. "Haven't you had enough of this place? Get the hell on out before I arrest you again for loitering."

Tim grins.

"First you won't let me out, and now you can't wait to be rid of me. Which is it?"

He doesn't wait for the deputy's reply, though. He stands up, makes a show of dusting himself off, and heads for the door.

"I'll just wait in the car," he calls back to you. You can't tell if he's serious or not, but your stomach twists into a knot at the thought of it. He doesn't know you have Steve's car. Maybe he'll look for Darry's truck and then give up. You shake your head to clear it.

You turn back to the deputy and ask, "May I see Keith Mathews, please? Is he still here?"

"Yeah, he's still here. He doesn't appear until 3:30. Judging from the way things went for Shepard, though, I'd guess that- after that- he's all yours."

You frown, confused.

"What happened? I thought they were getting sent down."

"Insurance," the deputy says. "I don't quite get it myself, but something about the drive-in not having any and already being an unholy, fiery deathtrap. They were in violation of about a billion fire codes. There seems to be enough evidence to point to it being an act of God as easily as an act of a couple of assholes."

"Does Two-Bit…Does Keith know?"

"Nope." The deputy shakes his head. "You can be the one to give him the good news, if you like. It's cutting it close, with his arraignment, but I bet we can process him before close. He'll be out by four-thirty."

* * *

><p>You ought to be happy, and mostly you are. You're more relieved than anything that Two-Bit is going to walk. Everything can go back to as normal as it ever is. That, you decide, is what scares you: that Two-Bit will think that everything will go back to the way it was before. In his absence, you've been having a pretty good time.<p>

When you see him, though, you're happy again to be able to give him the news. His hair needs a wash. His ducktail looks like it's melted. You can't remember if you've ever seen him with his shirt tails actually tucked in, but today he looks like he may have tried it and given up part way.

He sits down in front of you and folds his arms across his chest.

"You come to say 'good-bye'? I figured you wouldn't come unless you had to."

His glowering irritates you. You scoot forward to kick him under the table.

"You ain't going to prison, Two-Bit. Lack of evidence. They already released Tim. The cop said you'll be out by dinner."

He stares at you for a second, blinks, and then the grin spreads slowly across his face.

"Well, holy shit," he says. "You ain't shittin' me, are you?"

You shake your head.

"You really ain't? Oh my God, baby."

You stiffen when he calls you 'baby'. He doesn't notice. He jumps up from his chair, sits back down again, and begins to drum his fingers on the table between you.

"What are you going to do?" You ask him.

"Are you kidding me? I'm taking you out to dinner. And my mom and Darla- how's that sound?"

You blurt out, "I can't. I have plans."

"Cancel 'em! Come on, baby. What else you got going- the rodeo? You can do that any old time."

You can't help but smile. If he only knew why you needed to get to the rodeo so badly.

"I can't tonight, Two-Bit," You tell him. "Take your mom out. She's been a wreck over this. Take a shower, for Christ's sake, and then take your mama out for dinner."

* * *

><p>You park Steve's car in the grass between the arena and the stables. The sun is high, but the air is still cool. The haze of dust makes it seem warmer though. It's a vision of summertime the way it was when you were a kid. You walk towards the arena. By the time you reach it, you've need a Coke.<p>

A soft whistle turns your head. You're expecting Ruby, but it's his cousin Rodeo who hops down from the fence where he's perched. He jogs up towards you.

He's as tall as Ruby, but heavier set. He's tall for a bull rider. Ruby says Rodeo rode more when they were growing up and still does it for fun, but not so much to compete. When there's money involved, Rodeo's better off being a pick-up man. "Thinks he's wise in the ways of cattle," Ruby told you. "He's actually proud of that."

"Minute of your time, my girl," Rodeo says and keeps walking. You follow him past the stands and the tables where the old men sit and smoke and pass judgment on the young men.

He's been watching you since you came on to the rodeo grounds, it seems, because he keeps walking until you're back at Steve's car.

He looks the car over, running his fingers up the hood, and then he says, "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

He whistles softly through his teeth again. He shoves his hands in his pockets as if to attempt to put even more distance between you.

"Goddamn Junior," he whispers. "For as many times as I been tossed and hit my head on the ground, you'd think he'd been the one with the brains. The boy's got no brains. I swear it."

You lean back against the fender of Steve's car and cross your arms across your chest.

Rodeo continues. His voice is so quiet you wouldn't quite call it a rant: "You know he's on the lam, right? And you know why? And how old he is? And you know…you know how it is- that it don't always sit right with people when they see us with white girls? You know all that too?

You nod.

"Then what are you doing? You just as dumb as him or is this some kind of thrill for you?" He voice changes from musing to mean. His eyes meet yours and then focus just past your shoulder again.

"He knows all that, too," You say. "How come he keeps coming around to see me?"

"If I thought I could get a straight answer from him, I'd be talking to him. I know what he's like…" He says a word that you don't understand and then shakes his head like he'll never be able to explain it. "Thought I'd roll the dice with you. Maybe you got more sense than him."

"What do you want me to do? Just walk away? He knows where I work, where I go to school."

Rodeo shakes his head. "You talk to him. Break it off. Tell him to knock it off, and tell him to go back to Fort Riley."

"But I don't want him to." It comes out as a whine. It slips out before you have time to think and it surprises you to hear yourself say it.

Rodeo smirks. You just proved yourself to be as much of a kid as he suspected.

"My girl…"

"I ain't your girl," you snap at him.

He grins at that too. "It's just what we say…Jesus…a girl's what you are, ain't it? Back home, we say…" And he says the word. "We just call people what they are. Most of us are pretty straight forward kind of people. 'Cept for Junior. He's tricky."

You frown and look down at the grass.

"Ah, no," Rodeo says. His voice goes back to being soft. "Not like that. He won't hurt you or nothing. He's just all over the place. Can't ever just go from A to Z. Always has to have his adventure in between."

"Am I an adventure or am I where he ends up afterwards?" You're staring past Rodeo's shoulder now, the way he looks past yours when he speaks. He does it out of habit; it's what's polite to him. You're doing it because your eyes are filling up with tears.

"Everything's an adventure, ain't it?" Rodeo says. "He don't have a girl in every port, if that's what you're worried about. He ain't no Ricky Nelson. He'll always do what's right, but sometimes I got to drop-kick him in that direction, I've found. It's like my job. Must be a punishment for something."

The dust is rising in the arena. The announcer is back at her perch and is rattling off the name of the bulls and the order of the riders. Rodeo looks back over his shoulder.

"I'ma make him go back," he says. "We're done here and we're heading back north. His old man says I ain't to show up in Macy with him again. Got to leave him in Kansas. Help me out, will ya, my girl? Tell him goodbye."

You nod and open your mouth to speak, but before you can another voice shouts out from the fences.

"Goddamn, Rodeo. There you is. Thought you peached out."

It's Sonny, their third Musketeer. Rodeo raises his middle finger to him and shakes his head. He must assume that you're going to do what he's asked because he tells you, "thanks, girl," and lopes away towards the fences.

You pull yourself up on to the hood of Steve's car. You half-listen to the announcer call out names. You hear the name Audie Fremont. Rodeo must be a maternal relative of Ruby's if he isn't a Ruby himself. The announcer pauses, and the apparently butchers Sonny's last name.

"Mahpiyasha. Christ, how hard is it?" You hear Ruby's voice.

Your head pops up and you wipe your eyes. He continues as he comes up to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you against Steve's car:

"You can say that, can't you?"

You smile. "Say it again."

"Mahpiyasha. It's Red Cloud. Sonny's not from Macy, but it's close to how we'd say it. Got dust in your eyes?"

He squints down at you.

You nod and shrug. "I guess so. It's the wind. _Mahpiyasha_."

"There. Good. Now go on over and tell that announcer lady how to say it right. We been here a week and she fucks it up every time."

"I met Rodeo," you tell him.

Ruby hmmms and looks you over again.

"That dumb bastard made you cry or what?"

You shake your head.

Ruby cracks a grin. "Shit, did he? You want me to go pop him one? I'll do it. He thinks he's some kind of real cowboy, but I think if I sneak up and get the jump on him…"

He's got you laughing now. He leans down and kisses your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck and ask him:

"You're going tomorrow?"

"That what the Indian Agent said?" He grins when you look confused. "Rodeo…he's like…he thinks he runs our lives…like the agent that used to take us away to school. Forget it. Rodeo said we're heading out tomorrow?"

You nod.

"And then he made you cry. Jesus, that sonofabitch. If that's what he says, then yeah, but then I'll be back. We'll just go up north for a while, see my old man, then I'll be back."

Again you nod because Ruby seems convinced. When he smiles, you don't get the slightest sense that he's feeding you a line. He intends to come back. He believes he will.

So you decide not to argue. Let Rodeo wrangle Ruby. He's the one who thinks he's the cowboy. Making Ruby do what he should isn't your problem. Your problem is what you're going to tell Darry when you get home late and what you're going to tell Steve you've been doing with his car.


	47. Chapter 47

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, and most likely she hates Curtis sisters like the devil.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Forty-Seven-

You'd run off and sleep with him in a second if he asked you.

Ruby doesn't ask you to, though. He buys you a Coke and says, "Let's sit up there. Ain't any sun." He points with his chin to the top of the stands, a place usually reserved for small children who enjoy the climb and the feeling up being up so high.

Two small boys- dressed in their own ropers and snap shirts- keep pushing past you in a game of chase. One of them trips over Ruby's foot and he pulls the kid up before he can fall.

He says, "Look what you did," in the same teasing tone he uses with you. The boy gives him a shy grin and runs after his friend. It's the first time you've noticed- and maybe you've never had occasion to- that he interacts with children differently than your brothers and their friends. He seems more comfortable with them, more permissive but also more willing to intervene with a stranger's child. You suspect it's his culture- the way he was raised- and yet it reminds you of your father, too, and the way he took on Two-Bit and Johnny without question.

"What're you thinking, Miss Tulsa?" He asks.

Your mouth curls up in a slight smile. You figure you're blushing a little because he grins and looks down at his knees, shaking his head.

He asks you, "You want to take off?"

"Where are we going to go?"

He thinks on that for a while. You've become used to this, even just this week: he never answers a question right away. Sometimes he doesn't answer you at all. The conversation will go somewhere else and then- hours later- he'll tell you what he thinks.

"That ain't your car, right?" He says.

You shake your head.

"You ought to give it back."

"I intend to. I wouldn't exactly say it's stolen."

"That what you said the last time?" He winks at you and elbows your arm. "You want to go to Macy?"

"Nebraska?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, me neither. You know, Rodeo- he thinks I don't know right from wrong. I know what's right and wrong. I know I'm fucking up in the big picture. I know it's useless fighting it, and yet I persist."

"What's the right thing to do?"

"Go to Fort Riley, obviously, like I should've six month ago. My family's ashamed of me. The MP's keep badgering my old man. And- shit- he's an old man. My dad's been married three times. Got a pack of kids with each woman. I came along late in the game. People's always thinking he's my grandpa. Anyway, he's old and he don't need any more shit from me."

"You already did a tour. Maybe they won't send you back again."

It's a dumb thing to hope for, you know.

He shakes his head. "I think I pretty much guaranteed I'm going back when I went AWOL. It's that or keep me in Leavenworth. It's more cost effective to send me back over."

You frown. The fact that he's using a term like "cost effective" tells you he knows what he's talking about. Someone's explained it to him, something with even more authority than Rodeo.

Ruby sits up and leans back against the bleachers. He takes a final swallow of his Coke. As you've come to expect, after all this, he gets back to his original question:

"You know where I want to go?"

"Where's that?"

"Your house."

"No." You say it so quickly that he laughs at you.

"Come on, darlin'. You got to take that car back to somebody, and I got a feeling like your ass is going to be in some trouble. Come on- I can't take any of this back. I can't disappear and make it like you never met me. I fucked you over from the first time I talked to you, put all kinds of dumb thoughts in your head. As long as we're up to our knees in it, let's try and do one little thing right."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want to meet your brother. It's my last night here, so says the Almighty Audie Fremont." He rolls his eyes. "No sneakin' around. Take me home to meet them. Let me ask him if I can take you out."

"He'll say no. And then he'll kill you."

Ruby's already made up his mind, though. He stands up and offers you his hand.

"Somebody's going to kill me either way. I don't give a damn about what Vietnam's about. I'd prefer to go down over this."

You take his hand. Your fingers have gone ice cold. He pulls you up to standing and kisses your forehead. You follow him down from the bleachers and out towards Steve's car. You're almost there, when you hear a pop. Ruby says, "ow, damnit" and turns around. The piece of gravel that hit him in the back rolls at your feet.

"What the hell, Cousin?" Rodeo is standing back at the fences.

"Ain't like that, you deviant. I'll be right back," Ruby tells him.

"Right back?" Rodeo actually grins. "Sounds exactly like _that_ to me."

"Like you'd know," Ruby says and Rodeo flips him off. Ruby laughs and says something to Rodeo in Omaha. Rodeo replies, but switches back to English at the end for your benefit.

"Idiots," he says and waves you away. He turns back to the fences and climbs over.

"Just bossy," Ruby grumbles. "Give me the keys, girl. You ain't supposed to be driving, are you?"

* * *

><p>Darry has his beacon on. It isn't even dark yet, and he's got the porch lit up. When Ruby stops the car and the two of you get out, the screen door opens and Sodapop comes flying out of the house. He stops at the steps and frowns when he sees that Steve's car doesn't contain Steve.<p>

"Where's Darry?" You call to him.

"Where's…" He lets the question fade and scratches his head. He isn't wearing any shoes. He thinks about it for a second and then picks his way carefully down the steps and across the yard in his bare feet.

"Soda, this is Gil Ruby," you say when he reaches the gate. "Gil, this is my brother Sodapop."

Soda says, "hi" and it sounds more like a question than a greeting. He shakes Ruby's hand when Ruby offers it and says, "Howdy".

"Steve isn't in the trunk, by any chance, is he?" Soda asks you.

"Soda," you begin. "We have company. Can we just leave it alone for a little while?"

Soda looks back and forth between you and Ruby.

He says to you, "May I speak to you in private for just a second first?"

You nod and step through the gate, leaving Ruby on the sidewalk. Soda pulls you towards the house by the arm. Midway between the fence and the porch, he stops.

"I'm not even going to ask," he says, nodding towards Ruby, "since I know from experience that you always have everything under control. You should know, though, that Two-Bit and Shepard are out…"

"I do know that."

"Awesome…and now Steve is in jail for some 'entering and refusing to leave' shit at the Girl's home. Good news is he's married…to my former girlfriend…I guess that's good news. Be sure to congratulate him when you see him."

"Are you okay?" You're not sure what Soda wants you to say to all this.

"Never better," he lies. He tries to grin, but his eyes avoid yours. "Who's this guy then?"

"He's a friend of mine. He's leaving town tomorrow, and he'd like to meet Darry. Is Darry here?"

"Of course Darry's here. He's lying in wait to throttle you. When Steve's dad called here because the cops were looking for Steve, it became apparent that you and he were not shelving parts at the DX."

You nod and thank Soda for the warning. You walk back to the gate and say to Ruby:

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says. He steps into the yard and pauses to brush some dust off of his jeans. He gives Steve's keys to Soda.

Darry can be quietest person you know, but when he's angry he fills up a room. It's like his chest expands like Popeye on spinach. His presence pushes the air out and makes it difficult to breath. He always has the advantage in an argument because you're trying to out-think him while you're deprived of oxygen.

He's on the phone when you enter the front room with Soda and Ruby. Ruby stops in the doorway, waiting to be asked to come in further. He clasps his hands in front of him, over his belt buckle, and ducks his head. The stance makes his shoulders look smaller. It's meant to appear submissive, but you don't believe it for a second.

It's worse than you'd thought it would be on the drive over. What you're about to witness is something akin to the Clash of the Titans. Ruby's as tall as Darry and the same age. He isn't going to be treated like a kid. Christ, he's a twenty-one year old Army veteran. He's probably killed people. If your dad was here, it would be different. Ruby would be submissive with your father. Your father's age would garner some automatic respect from Ruby. He looks at Darry as an equal.

Darry puts down the phone without saying good-bye to the person on the other end. He may have just hung up on them.

"You're back," he says to you.

"Yeah, and before dark."

"Well, that's something. And this is…?"

"Darry, this Gil Ruby. He's a friend of mine. He wanted to meet you. Gil, this is my brother Darrel."

Ruby steps forward to shake Darry's hand. Darry shakes, and then he says:

"You know, I've come to believe that we're each responsible for our actions, so I believe that it's her own fault whatever craziness she stirs up. She is, however, a child. You know that, right? Because if you do know exactly how old she is, I'd have to say that makes you responsible for a whole 'nuther level of crazy."

"I know how old she is," Ruby tells him. "There ain't been anything like that."

Darry's eyes make a quick assessment of you. You do your best not to look away. You shrug your shoulders at him because there's nothing to tell. You and Ruby have never done anything more than kiss, hold hands, and talk shit. Compared to what you've been warned to expect from guys, Ruby has shown a hell of a lot of restraint- more than you wish he would at times.

"Go get something to eat," Darry tells you. You nod and walk past him towards the kitchen. He calls after you, "And get him something too. And then you and Soda take off for a few minutes."

Soda follows you into the kitchen.

"Is this good or bad?" You whisper to him.

He pulls a couple of plates down from the cupboard while you get the leftovers out of the refrigerator.

"I'll let you know when we get back from where ever Darry's sending us. We'll see who's left standing."

You make a couple of sandwiches and Soda heats up some leftover corn. Darry and Ruby sit down at the dining room table without exchanging a word. You take Ruby his plate and ask him what he wants to drink.

"Get him a beer. He's an adult," Darry answers for him.

"You too?" You ask.

"Please," he says.

You return with the beer and then you just stand there. Soda hovers in the kitchen doorway.

"We need bread," Darry says.

"No, we don't."

Soda breaks in: "Come on, 'Rina. We got to take Stevie's car back. We'll take the car to his dad's and then we'll walk back."

He reaches for your arm and you follow. You pause to look back at Ruby. He winks at you and you wonder if he has any idea what he's gotten himself in to now.


	48. Chapter 48

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Forty-Eight-

You and Soda drive to Steve's house in silence. When you get there, Soda parks the car in front of the house and tosses the keys in the glove compartment. Neither one of you wants to take them up to the house and risk interaction with Steve's dad.

"You going to eat that?" Soda asks you. He points to the sandwich you've been carrying wrapped up in a napkin.

"Didn't you just eat?" You say, but you tear it in half anyway. When you get away from the house, you ask him, "So Steve and Sandy got married?"

"Yep." He halfway laughs at it. "Walked down the steps from the Clerk of Courts and into the waiting arms of the cops. Isn't that just romantic?"

"I guess. She just wanted to keep the baby. I suppose it works for her to be married and not have him around."

"Well, it's hardly a capital crime. He's not gone forever. It's like trespassing or something. He might go to the reformatory for a little while, and then…"

"He's going to join the Army," you say. "He told me that way he could provide for her and never have to see her."

Soda blinks at that.

"Jesus," he says finally. "You want to tell me just what the hell it is that girls want? Because I was willing to wait for the end of time for that girl. I was going to do it all by the book- the very Book they used throw at us in church. I was going to…Christ, and then there's you."

"What about me?"

"Who is this guy in our dining room? Don't get me wrong, you and Two-Bit- I had half a beer to celebrate when I found out that was over, but here you go again."

"He isn't anything like Two-Bit," you say.

"Do you even know that? And when are you going to find out? You told Darry he was leaving tomorrow. Sounds to me like you and Sandy are thinking an awful lot alike, and I don't get it at all."

You stop walking because your throat hurts and your eyes have filled up with tears. The wave of hopelessness hits you so fast that it blinds you. Soda stops and turns around when he hears you sob.

"Oh God," he says and comes back to you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and you cry into his t-shirt. You stand there long enough that he tries to eat a couple of bites of the sandwich while you're still moaning. You hit him on the chest with your fist.

Soda giggles and pushes you back at arm's length. He puts the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and then uses his free hand to brush away your tears.

"Okay, I have to ask- are you knocked up?"

"Why is everyone always asking me…?"

"Well, you're all weepy. I thought girls…okay. So tell me why, 'Rina."

You cock an eyebrow at him. He does it back.

"Tell you why I'm not pregnant?"

"No, smart ass," he says and lets you go with a shove. The two of you start walking again. "Why that guy? Why Sandy and Steve? Why the Tim Shepards of the world? Wait- I'm starting to see a theme. A trend is emerging. It's all about the thrill, ain't it? It's a rush."

"And how is that any different than you racing cars?"

"My car will never get anyone pregnant and it will always be there waiting when I wake up in the morning. Where's this asshole going to be tomorrow morning?"

"He's not an asshole, Soda."

"Maybe not, but he's going to be gone tomorrow. You said so yourself."

When you clam up and he realizes that you're going to cry again, Soda throws his arm around your shoulder.

"Since you made me go back to school, I've met some people…some nice guys. You should let me set you up with a nice guy," he tells you.

"Guys who will do it by the Book?" You ask. "You think those kind of guys would even want me?"

"If they didn't want you, then they wouldn't be those kind of guys. Then they'd be assholes."

You try to trip him with your heel because you can't stand how sweet and perfect he is. Soda tries to push you off the sidewalk. He looks around for a handful of snow to throw at you, but it's all gone. The grass is peeking up in places. Another week and you won't need this jacket that everyone but you hates so much.

"You want to sneak up?" Soda asks, nodding towards your house at the end of the block.

You're about to shake your head and say you'll meet whatever's come straight-up, but then you look at him grinning and you can't resist. You'd never admit it out loud, but Darry's right: you are a kid and so is Soda. You thought you got tough when Dally died and they sent you away, but Soda can still bring it out in you.

He puts his fingers to his lips and the two of you crouch down. You sneak around the house from the back so they won't hear the gate. Instead of going to the door, you creep to the window of the bedroom Soda shares with Ponyboy.

Ponyboy is sitting on the bed reading a book. It must be something he isn't supposed to be reading- by Darry's decree- because he startles and stashes the book under his pillow when Soda opens the window.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Sneaking in," Soda tells him, hoisting you up by the waist.

Pony shakes his head. "With your own sister? That's weird."

You pull yourself through the window and fall in on the floor. You and Pony each take one of Soda's arms and pull him in.

"Are you drunk?" Ponyboy asks.

"Not yet," Soda says.

You add, "But the night is young."

"Who's the guy in the dining room with Darry?"

"Marina's been having herself a fling with an older man," Soda explains. There's a little pang in your chest when he calls it a 'fling'.

Ponyboy rolls his eyes and shoots you a look like he thinks he's twice your age. "What is wrong with you?"

"Well, Soda here thinks I'm addicted to thrill-seeking behavior. Obviously, Soda has been keeping company with too many social workers."

"And you not enough," Pony says.

You ask him, "So, have you been listening in? Any fur flying? Breaking dishes?"

He shakes his head. "Haven't heard a peep. Haven't really been paying attention."

"Yeah, what are you reading?" Soda asks. Before Pony can answer, Soda throws himself across the bed and digs out the book. "Hey, Marion the Librarian, what's this one about?"

You raise your eyebrows. You've read _Catcher In The Rye_. You'd thought everyone had. A few years back a teacher got fired for using it in an English class. After that everyone read it on the sly except, it would seem, Sodapop Curtis.

"It's a book about sticking by your kid sister, Soda," you tell him. "You should read it. You might learn something."

A creak on the floorboards makes you all freeze. Darry raps on the door with his knuckles.

"Ponyboy, are you talking to yourself in there or are Crazy Twins back?"

"He's talking to himself, Darry," Soda says. "It's scaring me half to death."

Darry opens the door. He's frowning and shaking his head.

"Get out here," he says to you. When Soda stands up, he says, "No, you stay here so Pony has a live body to talk to. God, you're all just…"

You follow Darry back out to the front room. Ruby is sitting on the couch. You can't read his face for anything.

"What's going on?" You ask.

"Ball game," he says and nods towards the television. "If there's one thing we can all agree on, I think it's that your town has a crappy baseball team."

"That's all we've been able to agree on?" You ask, looking at Darry.

"Sit down. Watch some baseball," He tells you. You wait for instructions on where to sit. When he doesn't give you any, you sit down on the couch next to Ruby. You keep watching Darry for a few seconds, expecting him to tell you to move to the next chair or the next county. He doesn't. He gets himself and Ruby another beer from the kitchen and sits down in your father's chair.

And it's exactly like something your father would dream up- your last date with Ruby. The two of you sit on the couch and watch the Oilers get crucified while Darry sits across the room in his chair. Ruby puts his arm around you, but it's hardly cuddling when one or three of you keeps lurching towards the TV to yell at your pathetic baseball team.

When the game is over, Darry offers Ruby a ride back to Buck's and then goes on a long and wandering search for his keys. You and Ruby stand on the porch. He holds your face in his hands and kisses you until Darry reappears.

When they get in the truck and drive away you back into the kitchen and polish off Ruby's half-finished beer. You figure you must be buzzed when the thought enters your mind to pray for him.

You fall asleep on the couch waiting for Darry to come back. You want to ask him what he and Ruby talked about. When shakes you awake and points you towards your room, though, you don't have the energy. Getting information from Darry is like drawing blood from a rock. You figure you'll wait and ask him tomorrow.

When tomorrow comes, however, you find that you don't want to talk about it.

* * *

><p>an: No, I didn't make that up. In 1960, a Tulsa school teacher was fired for assigning _Catcher In The Rye_ to her 11th grade English class. The book was still banned in the Tulsa schools at the time of _The Outsiders._


	49. Chapter 49

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Forty-Nine-

Marla says it's why she loves you: you can stir up so much shit and then walk away from it like nothing happened. In her eyes, you land on your feet like a cat. She has no idea how hard it can be on your joints.

It feels good to have a girlfriend- a friend who's a girl- saying she loves you. Especially with Evie shooting you poison darts from her eyeballs every time she passes you in the hall.

"That I do not get," Marla is complaining over the books she's putting on a cart for shelving. "She says she's going to beat you up, you know. She said it this morning to this bunch of girls, but she knew I could hear."

You take a few jabs at the air. "Well, let's see what she's got then."

"Are you serious?" Marla puts her book down and frowns at you. She rolls her eyes when she sees that you're not at all serious. "What I don't get is how this is your fault. Why is it when some guy screws over a girl, it's another other girl's fault?"

"I'm fairly confident Evie could not take Steve. I'm an easier target."

"That's just it- why does anyone have to take on anyone?"

You shrug again and pull the cart away from her.

"You should let me give you a ride downtown after school," Marla says. "In case she tries to jump you."

"You're my body guard now?" You ask her, but you're happy to have the ride. Taking the bus would remind you too much that Ruby's not going to be on it.

You really don't give Evie and her threats a second thought. Not until she comes face to face with you on the way to the cafeteria. You aren't paying attention and you almost run right in to her. There she stands, hands on her hips, nostrils flaring. Her lips are pressed together tight. In a blink, you take stock of her: she's mad as hell, but she's got fingernails and hair she doesn't want to damage. She's shorter than you, if a little heavier. She's not a threat, just an annoyance.

"I lost my boyfriend because of you," she says.

You roll your eyes and tell her: "I lost mine, too. Let's go mourn together over green beans and tator tots."

"What- that creepy guy who meets you at the bus stop? Did the tribe move on to different hunting grounds?"

Now that _does_ make you mad. You take a deep breath and try to imagine how Ruby himself would handle a line like that. You think to yourself that he wouldn't think it was worth the fight. What fun is it if you already know you can lay her out?

You say, "Evie, is there something I can do for you?"

"You've done plenty, Marina. Thanks so much. I just want you to know, since it seems we're both available again, I will be happy to tell every boy in this school just exactly what kind of girl you are. You think anyone's going to want to slum with you after you been with that-"

You've heard the slur she uses only a couple of times before. Once, you were with your father and another man used it referring to news of another oil boom on the Osage Reservation. You asked your father later on what the man had meant. He told you and then he said if you ever used those words he'd smack them right out the side of your head. Your father never threatened to raise a hand to you over anything else.

You couldn't say if it's just a knee-jerk reaction or you carrying out your father's wishes that makes you backhand Evie across the mouth and send her stumbling backwards into the cafeteria.

The whole room grows silent for a second and then there's cheer from about half the boys. You've never understood what turns boys on so bad when girls fight. You're aware, though, that they're all on their feet and waiting for the next move.

Evie is slow to get up. If you'd wanted to, you could've kept her down, but all you can think about is that this is most definitely a violation of your probation. Hell, you might finally see your probation officer. You look around you for whichever adults might be watching and moving to intervene.

An arm around your waist jerks you off your feet and knocks the wind out of you. It feels like you're flying out into the hall and towards the doors to the parking lot. When you start to squirm and fight to be let down, Two-Bit's voice tells you:

"Settle down, you ingrate. I'm trying to take you out to lunch. You ain't going to turn down lunch with your buddy Two-Bit, are you, kid?"

He puts you down when you go still. The two of you run out the doors to his car. It briefly occurs to you that he's going to think he's pulling off some Knight In Shining Armor-style rescue and that you really don't want to be alone with him. When you get to the car, though, you're not.

Two-Bit gets behind the wheel and you get in on the passenger side. The rear door slams shut behind you. You turn around and Soda's there. He's laughing so hard he has to wipe tears from his eyes.

"Oh my God," he says, falling back against the seat. "If you could've seen yourself. Damn, Marina- never again will I be afraid to leave you alone with any man…"

"That's the real reason we broke up, you know," Two-Bit starts in. "She was always knocking me around. She's brutal, this girl."

He punches you in the arm and then flinches away in mock-fear that you might hit him back. You shake your head at both of them.

"I started a fight. I'm going to go back to Oklahoma City. What am I going to do?"

"Evie started a fight," Two-Bit says. "She got in front of you and –"

"I hit her first, Two-Bit. Shit, I'm going to go back to the Girl's Home or that Nazi trade school in Kansas."

"Kid, just settle down," he says. He puts his arm out and strokes the back of your neck with his thumb. You sit up a little straighter and try to shrug him off. He takes his hand away and tugs at your earlobe. Then he leaves his hand on your shoulder and you let him.

"Where're we are going?" Soda asks.

"Ask Marina what she wants for lunch," Two-Bit says. "Clearly, we don't want to mess with her when she's hungry."

You're not hungry. Your stomach is hard as a rock. You pull your feet up underneath yourself. This is why Two-Bit's car is better than Steve's, you think- Two-Bit doesn't care if you put your feet on the seats. You look down at your lap for a second and then back at Sodapop.

"Let's just get a burger," he tells Two-Bit. He gets it and he's scared now, too. He sits back to look at you, and you can see all kinds of wild ideas flying though his head. You're thinking all the same ones: you could run away, you could surrender yourself and beg to go back to Joy's, or you could go back to school and finish it with Evie just to make it worth your while.

"Nothing's going to happen," Two-Bit says. He sounds so convinced and so firm. He almost sounds like Darry.

He drives you to a burger joint on the Ribbon and buys you and Soda burgers. When you don't eat yours, he eats half of it for you and then hands the rest back to Soda. He asks if you want ice cream. You shake your head. Your head hurts from trying not to cry.

"What'd she say to you anyway?" He asks.

"She said…she called my friend Ruby something awful." You look back at Soda because he'll know your dad's edict. "One of them names for Indians we're never supposed to say."

Soda nods and winces.

"Okay," Two-Bit says. He's quiet for a while, which is strange, and he seems a little sad. "Then she had it coming. Nothing's going to happen to you, 'Rina."

You don't believe him for a minute. He pulls the car back out on to the Ribbon and you begin to panic when he turns it back towards the school.

"Where are you going?"

"School. Lunch is almost over. We got to go to American Lit., remember, or they'll call your PO."

"Shit, Two-Bit, they've already called my PO. Just let me out."

"Marina, nothing's going to happen. We're walking back into that school. You and me are going to American Lit. We ain't going to say a word to anybody. They come to take you out of class, I'll go with you, but they ain't going to. Nothing's going to happen."

When you get to the school, you're so frantic that you've started to believe that Two-Bit is leading you into the lion's den in revenge for you going out with Ruby. You look back at Soda when he turns to go to European History as though it's going to be the last time you see him.

Everyone looks at you when you get to American Lit. One of Tim Shepard's buddies breaks into a grin and starts to say something, but Two-Bit shoots him a glare that shuts him right up. You sit down in your chair with Two-Bit behind you and wait.

And nothing happens, just like he said. Absolutely nothing. The teacher gives notes on _Leaves of Grass._ You don't write down a thing, but you become aware that Two-Bit is writing behind you. When the bell rings, he taps you in the arm with his notebook.

"I'll get it back from you later. You going to be home tonight?"

"After work," You tell him and take the notebook.

When you don't get out of your seat, he cocks that eyebrow at you and says, "You're going to be late, slugger."

For the first time in an hour and a half, you smile. You can't help it. It's starting to feel okay.

When the final bell ends, you almost run for the doors. You jump when a hand catches your arm. You think it's Evie- waiting for you all this time- but it's Marla.

"Come on," she says. "You still need a ride, right?"

You follow her to her car and get in.

"I don't understand it," You say once you're inside. "I should be in custody. Didn't she rat me out? Everybody saw it."

Marla shrugs. "You know how it is- everybody say something. The kitchen people weren't really paying attention and every one of the kids saw something different. It's a funny thing- sometimes it works in your favor that everyone expects you to act like animals."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The expectations are pretty low. They don't expect anything more from the Greasers than fighting each other and acting wild. They were pretty blasé about it. I went up to the office ready with some big story about how she swung first and missed, but they didn't care. They were more worried about how calling in the cops would rile the parents up."

"Wow," You say. "Thanks…for trying to go to bat for me. God, I been scared to death all afternoon. I guess I lived right on up to their expectations, didn't I?"

"I wish I could've popped her, too, for what she said. Where is he, anyway?"

You sigh. "He was AWOL from the Army. He's going back to Fort Riley to turn himself in."

She asks the question that you haven't even asked yourself. It's been there, in the back of your mind, but you haven't let yourself form the words: "So, are you going to wait for him?"

"Yeah," you tell her. "He said he's coming back."

He said that, but he also said he thought he was going to die. He father told him that he was going to die. Ruby never asked you to wait for him. He just said he would come back. You're not sure it's the same thing.

In the moment, though, it seems like the safest thing. It's an opportunity, you decide. It's Ruby's gift to you- to be unavailable, but alone. You won't have to act like a girlfriend and fret over how much to give up and when. You'll have time to figure out everything else.


	50. Chapter 50

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Fifty-

"You're no good to me locked up, little girl," Eliza says to you. It seems she noticed the cut on your knuckle from where it connected with one of Evie's teeth before you even got inside the salon.

"Yes, ma'am," You say. She rolls her eyes and you grin at her. She hates it when you call her 'ma'am'.

Maybe they're avoiding the topic of men this day because they know that Ruby is gone, or maybe- miracle of miracles- they've just tired of it for once. Today, they want to talk about hair- your hair. Shirley wants to know if you're ever going to grow it back out.

You shrug.

"Because I remember when Sylvia did it," She says. "Scared the shit out of her when you asked. I think she waited on pins and needles for three days for your brother to come in here and tear her a new one. You could grow it out and keep the bangs. I could teach you to flip it like Jeannie Shrimpton."

Again, you shrug. Jeannie Shrimpton's hair looks like work. You've grown accustomed to spending less time on your hair than your brothers do on theirs. It affords you more time to dawdle over make-up and the secondhand wardrobe you've been assembling with your paychecks.

You offered again to help Darry with the bills. He said, no, Soda had done plenty of that. You reminded him that Soda's check has shrunk since he returned to school. Darry said that- from what he'd heard- teenaged girls are expensive. Girls need things that boys don't. Just keep paying for those kinds of things, he said, and I'll consider us even.

You knew, though, that there was a back-bill with Oklahoma Light and Power. They called the house once before Darry was home from work and you talked to them. You asked them how much it was and told them it would be paid on the following Friday. On Friday, you asked Eliza if you could be a few minutes late for work and you went and paid it. You never told Darry.

It was a strange way to be rebellious, but it felt good. It felt good to make a little less worry for Darry, and it made you feel just a little entitled. You have no intentions of growing your hair back out, but there are other 'girl' things you wanted.

"Can you pierce my ears?" You ask Eliza.

"I can. Is that going to earn me a visit from your brother?"

Shirley giggles over a customer's hair.

"By all means, pierce her ears!" She says.

Theresa tells you, "You know it's going to hurt."

"Don't hurt that bad," Shirley says, but you question her motives.

"Why do you want to pierce your ears?" Eliza asks you.

You want to because you want to look like Edie Sedgwick and because Ruby told you that all the girls on the reservation still pierce their ears. He told you they make earrings out of dyed porcupine quills. He said some of the older men still had pierced ears too.

"Just been thinking about it for a while," You say.

"Well, if you've been thinking about it for a while," Eliza says. "It ain't like you just woke up this morning and thought you'd like to do that."

You shake your head. "No, ma'am. I've been thinking about it."

She tosses a pencil at you. "You quit calling me 'ma'am', little girl, and I'll do it. You keep it up, though, and I'll see to it the needle slips."

Darry picks you up just after five. You slide in on the passenger side of the truck and don't say a word for a while.

"What?" He asks you. "You got a grin on you like Two-Bit when he's about to draw down the law."

"I'm going to get my ears pierced."

"No, you're not."

"I want to."

"And I said 'no'."

"I'm going to do it anyway," You tell him.

He doesn't say anything else. He doesn't say a word the next day either when you get in the truck and your ears are pierced. They're little hoops- small, but there's no way he can miss them. Still, he doesn't say a word. Maybe he thinks he's punishing you with his silence. Maybe he thinks giving you any attention for it will only encourage you.

It will be years from now, but one day Darry will admit that he just had no idea what else to do.

* * *

><p>It's warm enough outside to do your homework on the porch after dinner. You're sitting on one end on a bench with a copy of <em>The Old Man and the Sea<em>. Pony is sitting up on the rail writing on that theme of his. He's showed you bits and pieces. Before that, no one really made any attempt to describe to you what happened. You find his portrayal of Johnny to be strange- you never thought Johnny was weak, just exhausted from the life he had to lead.

Inside the house, the phone rings. Darry answers it and then yells out your name. You set your book down and go inside. You ask who is it is and he shakes his head. You take the receiver from him.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, 'Rina." Her voice is so familiar, and yet hearing it again about knocks you silly. "It's Sandy. I was wondering…could you come over and see me?"

"I got homework to finish," you tell her, more for Darry's benefit. "I can afterwards. Where are you?"

"My parent's house. I get to stay there now since Steve and me…and he's…"

She breaks off. She figures you know and she doesn't want to talk about it. You wonder what it is she does want to talk about then.

"Just whenever you can, 'Rina. I'm just lonely."

You tell her you'll be over when your American Lit is finished.

"Sandy?" Darry says when you hang up. You nod. He says, "Stay clear of her old man."

You consider saying "which one" since she now has both a father and a husband. You know what he means, though. Sandy's dad is a world-renowned jerk, and Steve is a non-issue at the moment. He's in the reformatory and will be until he turns eighteen in a couple of weeks.

When you get to her house, Sandy does you the favor of meeting you outside. She knows how everyone feels about her father; she isn't too fond of him herself. When you were younger and still close friends, the two of you would meet in her driveway sometimes and just sit on the tailgate of her dad's pick-up. These days, there's no way Sandy could hoist herself up there. She's leaning against it instead.

"Damn," you say when you see her.

She rolls her eyes. "I know. I'm huge."

"How long you got?"

"About a month and a half. The doctor says I'm really big though. I might go early."

You catch yourself frowning and look at the truck instead of Sandy. You're not worldly, but you're not stupid either. You wonder if Sandy is early or if she's ahead. Maybe she's been pregnant longer than she's letting on.

"So, you get to stay here?" You ask her.

"Until he gets back," she says. "Whenever that is. He says he's joining the Army. He'll send me his checks. Maybe I can move out."

She doesn't sound hopeful and you don't question her about it. The whole thing feels so hopeless to you. They don't want to be married to each other, and yet it seems that Sandy worked hard not to be with Soda, who did want to marry her.

"What are you going to name it?" You ask because it seems like a lighter subject.

She shrugs. "I suppose Steven, if it's a boy. Not my favorite name in all the world, but…"

"Well, if he ain't going to be here…"

"He's pretty set on it. Our first fight as a married couple, actually. If it's a girl…he just doesn't think it could possibly be a girl, and I…I don't know."

You elbow her. "You could name her Marina."

"Yeah, because that's what Steve would want- two of you in his life."

You laugh at her and stare out across the driveway. The sun has set and the air is suddenly chilly. You shiver a little and the idea just slips out:

"You could name her Ruby."

Silence, and then:

"Ruby Randal. Rudy Kay…Ruby Jo…Ruby Rae…what was Steve's mother's name?"

"Linda, I think. Lynette? Some L name."

"Ruby Lynn," Sandy says.

You could kick yourself for saying it. It feels like you gave part of him away. You can almost feel the pull of him slipping away from you. It hurts and you wish for all the world that you could take it back.

"Nah," You try to tell Sandy. "Too much 'R', don't you think?"

"I like it," she says. "If he doesn't, he can go to hell. He ain't going to be around anyway."

You tell her you have to go. You promise to come back tomorrow and bring her something to read, too. You even promise to go to St. Vincent DePaul's with her and look for baby stuff. Yeah, you'll do that, but right now, you just want to get as far away from her as possible.

You bee-line for the vacant lot and sit down on the fender of a burnt out Chevy. You look up at the sky and it's hazy and empty. There are no stars to wish upon. You let your head drop and start to cry.

There's noise behind you inside the wrecked body of the car. You straighten up and get ready to scurry in case it's some kind of animal you've disturbed. It speaks to you before you can run, though. Some kind of animal, alright:

"'Rina, hey, what's the matter?"

It's Curly Shepard. You haven't seen him since Darry ran him out of your house. You brush away your tears and turn away from him. You set your face in an angry glare, daring him to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.

Which, of course, he does anyway.

"Marina, are you alright?"

"What are you doing here? Are you living in that car?"

"Me? No, I live with my mom. I was just smoking a jay. Can't do that on Big Brother's turf without getting busted. I'd offer you a hit, but you already seem a little emotional…"

He's grinning at you, but his eyes are confused. Anything he says, he figures, is going to get him yelled at or smacked. He gets out of the car and stands to his full height but keeps his distance.

"It's just the mind-boggling vastness of the Universe," You tell him, nodding up to the sky. "Kind of blew my mind."

"So, you're already stoned?" He says.

You shake your head.

"Where you been, Curly?"

"Here and there. I went home while Tim was in jail. When he got out, he sort left me alone. I mean, he didn't beat the shit out of me as promised, but I sort of been staying clear in case he's just working his way up to it."

"Working his way up to an ass-beating doesn't really sound like Tim," You tell him. "I think you're in the clear."

"What about Two-Bit? He in the clear with you, then?"

"He's free and clear. I ain't going back to him."

"I heard you been fooling around with some Indian guy. They said they seen you with him downtown making out."

"They said?" You raise you eyebrows and try to not blush.

"Downtown's Shepard turf, girl. Like I said, can't do nothing there without getting busted."

"No one ever busted me."

"Yet. He's probably just saving the information up for a time when it's useful."

"He's too late," you tell Curly. "Darry knows. They all know. Whatever intel Tim thinks he has is useless."

Curly grins. This seems to please him. "You still going out with that guy?"

"Yep."

"I bet he'd want me to walk you home, though, in his absence."

"He'd probably like that."

Curly walks you as far as your front gate and then disappears into the on-coming night. He isn't as sly as he'd like to think. When you get in the house, Darry asks you if that was Curly Shepard who just walked you home.

"Yeah," you say. "And he just walked me home."

"You're damned right he did," Darry grumbles.


	51. Chapter 51

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Fifty-One

April 1966

"Mail call."

Darry walks through the front room mumbling his way through the bills and the notices from school. He tosses an envelope at you. It's post-marked from South Sioux City, Nebraska. You watch Darry wander- still talking to himself- into the kitchen. You don't want to make it too obvious when you dash to your room to open the letter.

There's still no door to close. You run to your bed and bounce down on it. The return address- there is no name- is a rural route in Macy. You pause for a moment and just look at that. You've never seen Ruby's handwriting before. It dawns on you then that Ruby shouldn't be writing you from Macy or anywhere near there. You open the letter and discover that he hasn't.

There is a letter from Ruby, but it's folded inside a note from Rodeo. It's his handwriting on the outside of the envelope. He's back at home for the time being, or at least he was when he sent the letter almost a week ago.

Rodeo's note to you reads:

_Hello._

_Sending you the letter Junior sent to us (me and Uncle) because he asked me to. He don't write much. We all have to share. _

_As I write, our Mr. Ruby is incarcerated at Fort Riley for the crime of absenteeism and being an idiot. I added that last part. Being an idiot's not really a crime. Otherwise you'd be locked up with him, Miss Curtis, for not doing what you were told. Junior gets 30 days, gets his pay docked, and then he ships out. You get the satisfaction of knowing he's still hung up on you. Lucky old you. _

_Just so happens I'm part of that package. He says I'm to look after you while he's away. Since the season's starting, I'll be here and there, but I got your address. Try to stay out of trouble until I come back to Tulsa, will you? I'm not running a day care._

_Yours truly,_

_Audie W. Fremont (Rodeo)_

You don't know whether to laugh at Rodeo's letter or be pissed off by his attitude of authority. He seems annoyed off by it himself, but he could be teasing. What you do see between the lines is that he loves his cousin. He may not like you or the idea of looking after you much, but he'll cross hell and high water for Ruby.

You set Rodeo's letter aside and open the letter from Ruby. It's addressed to his father and Rodeo. There's a post script at the bottom directing Rodeo to send it on to you.

_Dear Daddy and Cousin,_

_How are you? I'm towing the line. Locked up for 30 days. They're having me dig trenches in the yard and then fill them all back in again. When 30 days is up, they'll start paying me again, and I'll send it to you, Dad. It won't be much- that's the other part of my punishment, they dock my pay by two-thirds. _

_I ship out on May 8__th__. Out of San Diego just like last time except I don't get any shore leave the night before. I guess they don't want to risk me taking off again. I'm jailed until I get on the transport. I'll write in San Diego._

_I hope this makes things right between all of us. I'm trying my best to grow up some. Being a long time in coming, ain't it?_

_Your son (and cousin),_

_Gil, Jr._

_P.S. Hey, Cowboy, while you're out cowboyin', keep an eye on my girl, will you? Stop in and see here when you can. And don't make her cry no more or you and I will have to tangle._

Then there's your address.

It isn't a great letter. You would have preferred something personal, but even the mention of you and being called his girl makes your face grow hot and the tears rise up from your throat. You think that it isn't fair. You just want him back. You're surrounded by the same people who have surrounded you all your life, but without Ruby you're as lonely as you ever have been. It's worse than when you were in the Children's Home.

As promised, Ruby is not a writer. You don't hear from him. You keep an eye on the calendar and hope that he'll write to you when he ships out like he said he'd write to Rodeo and his father.

Steve turns eighteen and gets released from the reformatory. Soda goes over to the Randal house to see him and comes back looking quiet and sad.

You're in the kitchen when he gets home trying to put together something for dinner. Soda rummages around in the refrigerator and the cupboards long enough that it becomes clear he isn't really looking for food- he wants you to notice him.

"He still joining the Army?" You ask.

"Going down to enlist tomorrow."

"Are you going to miss him?" You ask, mostly because you miss Ruby and it's all you can think about.

"Something's wrong with him," Soda says.

You catch yourself before you fire off with _Well, he's kind of an asshole_. You put down the knife you were using to cut up chicken for chicken salad and turn to face Soda.

His eyebrows are wrinkled in a frown. He's leaning against the refrigerator. The bottle of milk is in his hand- he'd intended to drink straight from it- but he's just standing there drumming his fingers against it.

"Why do you say that?" You ask him instead.

"He's just different. Now that I think back, it's been happening for a while. Maybe it started when he got with Sandy or when Johnny died…but he's different."

You don't even know how to broach the subject of why with Soda. The answer presents itself, though, with the sound of footsteps coming across the porch.

The front door opens and slams shut, making you both jump.

"Afternoon, Curtis Clan!" Two-Bit calls out.

You remember Steve saying that Two-Bit dabbled and suddenly you're livid. You want to know if he was doing it while he was with you, if he knew about Steve, if he brought it to your house. You push yourself off from the cabinet and head to the front room, tugging Soda along with you.

Two-Bit has flopped down on the couch. He's pulled the small electric radio off the side table and has it sitting on his chest while he fiddles for a station.

"Turn that shit off," You say to him.

"What the…? This ain't shit- it's the Stones."

"I said turn it off. I want to talk to you. Soda, I want you to hear this."

You can feel Soda straighten up behind you. He thinks you want him to bear witness- and possibly exact justice- for something Two-Bit did to you. Two-Bit cocks his eyebrow, but at the radio, not you. He turns the radio off and sits up.

"Yes, ma'am," he says. You can hear the mockery in his voice.

"I saw Steve downtown once when I was out with Ruby…with Gil. He was with some other girl. She was acting kind of squirrelly, and Gil said it was she was doped up."

"That's unfortunate," Two-Bit says.

"I talked to Stevie about it. He says he does it sometimes and sometimes- he says- so do you."

"Wait a minute," Soda says. "Doped up on what?"

You raise your eyebrows at Two-Bit, inviting him to answer.

"Little bit of smack," Two-Bit says. "And I was just smoking it. I wasn't shooting up, so there's no needles. I ain't going to get hepatitis, so I wasn't going to give it to her."

Again, Soda is baffled. How you came to be more knowledgeable about these things than him, you have no idea.

"You can get hepatitis from sharing needles, Soda."

"Then how could he have given it to you?" There's an ugly silence, and then, "Oh."

Two-Bit continues, "but I don't shoot up. I never have. So, it wasn't a problem. To hear 'Rina talk, it ain't going to be a problem between us anymore anyway."

There's something hopeful in Two-Bit's voice when he says that. His eyes tell a different story. He raises his eyebrows and sets his jaw and looks right at you. The look is more like an accusation: if you were still his girl, it would be your business, but you're not so it ain't. You can almost hear him saying it.

You glare back at him long enough though that he backs down.

"I quit doing it," he says. "Decided I didn't like it. I'd rather drink beer."

"What about Stevie?" Soda asks.

"He told me he liked it," You say.

"I don't know what Stevie does," Two-Bit adds. "Like I said, I knocked it off. Didn't like those kind of people, neither."

"Well, that's just peachy," Soda says.

There's another long silence. Two-Bit reaches behind him again for the radio. He brings it back to his chest, but doesn't turn it on.

Behind you, Soda takes a deep breath. He says to Two-Bit, "You should go."

"What?" Again, he puts the radio back. This time he sets it down a little harder. He sits up on the couch.

His reaction seems to confuse Soda.

"You're right," he says. "It's almost dinnertime. We'll go. I need to talk to my sister."

_Only here_, you think, _and only Two-Bit._ _We'll leave our own house to talk and miss dinner because we don't want Two-Bit to miss dinner_. Never the less, you follow Sodapop through the house and out the back door.

"Where are we going?" You ask him.

"I don't know. I just have to get out of there. I can't think in that house sometimes. I can think when I drive."

You nod. Soda drove Darry to work at his Saturday work site this morning and then brought the truck home for some love and affection. He said it needed spark plugs. Most likely, he just wanted to monkey around. Whatever the case, the truck is there. You get in beside him and he drops the e-brake, letting the truck roll back as he turns the key in the ignition.

"I don't got my purse," You tell him. "We're going to get hungry."

"I got my wallet, and we're not going to Arkansas. We ain't going to be gone that long. I just got to think."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because I saw the way he looked at you, and the way you started in on him. If I left you there, y'all were going to kill each other. Damn, Marina, you sure dodged a bullet there."

"Seems to be a family trait," You say.

He nods and doesn't say anything more. You figure he's just driving around until it comes time to pick up Darry, and that's alright with you. Ponyboy will pick up where you left off with the chicken salad. Maybe a miracle will occur and Two-Bit will be moved to do it.

"God, I'm dumb," Soda says at last. "God, I'm so goddamned dumb 'cause you know how I feel, 'Rina?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm jealous. I'm jealous because Steve was taking off with Two-Bit to get loaded because he knew I was too goody-two-shoes to ask. Not that I would've if he had asked, but I wish he'd said something…and I'm jealous because he's married to my girlfriend, and she's having his baby." His voice starts to break here. You sneak a look at him and see his chin quiver. You look away again, and he says, "Why don't I get have any of that?"

"It ain't going to come to any good, Soda. They're going to be miserable."

"I wouldn't have made her miserable. I would've made her so happy."

He sniffs and wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand. You think to ask if he wants you to drive and then you remember that you can't. You tap his arm.

"Just pull over," You tell him. "Let's get something to drink."

You point in the direction of a hamburger joint down the street.

"Not here," he says. "If we're going to get a drink, let's really get a drink."

You know exactly where he's going when he points the truck north towards the stockyards. The novelty it gone for you, and now you just look at Buck's on a Saturday night with a feeling of dread. There's nobody there you know but Tim Shepard, and Tim's never done a thing for you- or anyone- that's made anything better.

"Soda, what about Darry?" It seems like the protest that will make the most sense to him.

He surprises you when he says, "Hell, Darry can find his own way home. He never lets us forget he's the big, adult, Superman. Let him fly, for all I care."

He pulls his t-shirt up and wipes the rest of his tears. He's driving a little too fast now. Soda's had it, and he doesn't care about anything at the moment. That- you figure with a growing unease in your gut- probably includes you.


	52. Chapter 52

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Fifty-One-

Darry would be proud. Well, probably not. He might feel just the slightest glimmer of hope, though, if he could read your thoughts as Soda pulls the truck up in front of Buck's.

You run down an internal checklist of the things you should do to derail this adventure:

-Appeal to Soda's sense of family responsibility and remind him you're on probation.

-Remind Soda that there's chicken salad to be eaten at home.

-Fight him for the keys.

-Get inside and immediately call Darry.

The last one seems like the most likely to work until you remember that you have no idea where Darry is working today.

"Hey, check it out," Soda says as he hops out of the truck. "Great minds think alike."

You look in the direction he's pointing and your blood quits flowing. Steve's car is parked across the street. You look around at the other cars. You're already feeling panicked and hopeless, so it would only make sense that Tim Shepard's car would be here too. It is.

Soda is halfway up the walk without you. You get out of the truck and follow him.

"Soda, I don't want to," you say.

"Then sit in the truck," he says. "Come on. Just play a game of pool with me, and we'll go home. They've seen us now. We can't just turn around and drive off. I'll look like even more of a pussy than they already think I am."

"Nobody thinks you're a pussy."

"Are you sure about that? They sure as hell treat me like one. Let's go inside. We can take an informal poll."

And he turns towards the house again. You scurry to catch up. On the porch the smell of cigarettes and weed hits you like a punch to the nose.

Soda holds the door open for you. You step inside. The first person you see when your eyes adjust to the dim is Tim Shepard. He's sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand and girl in his lap. He raises his eyebrows and looks back and forth between you and Soda.

You mouth the words "help me" to him.

He makes a pouty little face and mouths "blow me" back.

You glare and flip him off.

He says out loud, "That's my girl."

The girl on his lap snuggles in tighter, thinking he's referring to her. He's grinning and shaking his head at you, though, as you give up on him and hurry to keep up with Sodapop.

Soda already has a beer open by the time you catch up to him in the kitchen. You look around and discover that the telephone is missing. Someone has actually removed it from the wall.

You tug at Soda's sleeve. "Come on, then. Let's play some pool then."

"Wait here," he says.

"Pool table's downstairs, Soda," You tell him.

"I know where it is. In a minute. I said wait here."

You resist the urge to slap him. This, you think to yourself, is why you're dating a twenty-one year old. Any boy below the age of nineteen might as well still be in diapers.

You open your mouth to demand the keys from him, but he raises his index finger and shushes you.

He tells you, "Something I need to do first. You know the lay of the land. Take it easy. I'll be right back."

He raises his beer to you in a toast and then pushes past a couple of guys you've seen working on bikes in the Pines parking lot. You cringe. These guys do not like being pushed. They watch Soda just long enough to deduce that he isn't worth their time. You take a step back before they notice you.

The refrigerator is the closest hiding place. You open the door and reach in for a beer.

"Get outta there," a voice says from behind you. Tim leans over you and pushes the door shut.

"What's the big problem, honey? You looked a little upset when you came in. Drowning your sorrows in alcohol ain't going to help. Ask my old man."

He straightens back up and you turn to face him. He winks at you as he takes a drink of his own beer.

"I'm trying to get my brother out of here. You weren't much help." You tell him.

"Well, from the looks of things, I've successfully run _my_ brother out of here for the remainder of the day. Want me to tell you how I did it?"

You roll your eyes at him. He grins. You snatch his beer away from him and take a drink. This amuses him even more and he lets you keep it. Before he follows you back out into the front room, he grabs himself another from the fridge.

"Who has the keys?" He asks you.

"He does."

"Where's the Papa Bear? Where's the big guy?"

"He's at work. He's probably off by now and waiting for us to pick him up."

"Where's the Baby Bear?"

"At home."

He takes another drink. As he swallows a sly, cat-like smile spreads across his face.

"Where's your better half?"

"In jail on an Army base in Kansas."

"Whoa, shit. Who are we talking about now? That ain't Two-Bit, right?"

You shake your head.

Tim shrugs. "Well far be it from me to turn down a cry for help from a pretty girl whose boyfriend in conveniently locked up in another state. I promise you, baby, I won't let the vultures close in on you."

"That's not the kind of help I need. I need a ride home."

You could have predicted what his answer would be: "I can get you home, honey."

"Not that kind of ride."

That makes Tim laugh out loud. He knew you got what he was hinting at, but he didn't expect you to call him on it.

"Ah, Curtis Girl," He says. He puts his arm around you loosely and leads you towards the front door. "You know what I told Curly? I told him you were too much woman for him, and I was right. Too smart for Curly, too ornery for Two-Bit, and too fuckin' mouthy for me, I'm afraid. Your boy in Kansas is one lucky son of a bitch, though. And no way I'm going to cross any s.o.b. who has the balls to take you on."

"Are you going to give me and Soda a ride or not?"

"Soda? When did Soda join us on this ride?"

"Tim…"

A series of whoops and a rush of bodies towards the back door cuts you off. A fight has broken out in the back yard. No other occurrence could bring about a stampede like that. You can already guess who's out there fighting.

"Shit," You say.

Tim jerks his head towards the front door. "Now's our chance, sweetheart."

"Just help me," you groan and follow the crowd towards the back. You don't look back; you can feel Tim following. You don't know what code it is that he lives by, but he seems to have one. If it isn't doing what's right, it's at least doing what's most amusing. Breaking up a fight between Soda and Steve is- apparently- more amusing than trying to goad you into going for a ride. Tim is right on your heels. When you get to the back kitchen door, he steps around you and pushes his way out into the yard. It's your turn to follow him.

"Hey, ladies," he says, stepping right in between them. "That's no way to act. Boys will never ask you to dance if you keep this up."

He must be left-handed, you think. He holds his right hand back behind him to fend Soda off and gives Steve a good, hard shove with the left. He knows them both well enough- as do you- to know that Steve is the greater threat. Soda can pack just as hard of a punch, but he'll back down rather than hurt someone who isn't part of the beef. Steve will plow over anyone who tries to get in his way.

He can't plow by Tim, though. Steve catches himself before he falls and steps towards Tim again. You don't need to be able to see his face to know that Tim is smiling. He tilts his bottle of beer in a theatric gesture- far out from his body- and empties what's left on the ground. Then he flips the bottle so the neck is in his grip. Now he has a weapon. Steve stops in his tracks.

You run up to Soda and push him back with both hands on his chest. His lip is split and bleeding. He's breathing hard.

He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and says, "Get out of here, 'Rina."

"Asshole, you brought me here. You have the keys. Where am I supposed to go?"

"I tried to get her to go for a ride with me, Curtis," Tim calls over his shoulder. "She didn't seem to think you'd approve. That ain't true now, is it?"

You look up at Soda. "You want me to? You want to continue with your little whatever-the-hell-this-is? Shepard seems pretty confident he can get me home."

Tim coughs out a laugh. "Safely…I can get her home safely. Safe and sound. Jesus, little girl, what did you think I meant?"

You're fighting to keep from laughing too. You take your hands off of Soda's chest and step back.

"You know what, Shepard? That's sounding better and better all the time. I think you should take me home. All the way home. Let these two fight to the death if it's so important to them. I think the best place for me is in a car with you, half-drunk, as darkness begins to fall across the city. Good?"

For good measure, Tim shoves Steve again.

"Yeah," he says. "Fuck 'em."

Soda looks at you wide-eyed. Tim turns to go back in the house. He scoops you up around the waist as he does. You wave back at Soda from over his shoulder.

Soda snaps out of it and shakes his head.

"'Rina, get back here," he says.

You don't say a word. You smile and then blow him a kiss. The screen door slams shut between you.

Tim sets you down in the kitchen.

"You're driving me home, right?" You say to him. "Just driving me home. Not getting me home, not getting to first, second, or third either. Right?"

He laughs and snags another beer out of the refrigerator.

"Are you kidding me? I could take either of those dumbasses outside. Hell, I could take 'em both at the same time, but I am afraid of your big brother. Remember, I told you that me and Darrel have an understanding? I'm driving you straight home and leaving you at the curb, little girl."


	53. Chapter 53

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Fifty-three-

Tim does, indeed, leave you on the curb in front of your house. You can see the outlines of the figures on the porch. They're backlit from the light from the living room. Darry doesn't have the full panic light display on. In fact, once you get out of Tim's car and up to the gate, you can see Darry and Two-Bit sitting in the shadows drinking beer. Ponyboy is perched up on the railing drinking Pepsi. It's strangely serene. You approach them slowly.

"Come hither," Two-Bit says to you, gesturing with his PBR bottle.

"I got a call," Darry adds. "I know."

"Are you going to go get Soda?" You ask him. When you reach Two-Bit on the steps you make a grab for his beer and he holds it out of your reach.

Darry shakes his head. "Not until tomorrow. Apparently, when you and Tim caused your little diversion, Steve took advantage and laid Soda out. He's taking a nice little nap. I'll go get him tomorrow- early, very early, when it will be the most painful."

Darry wiggles his eyebrows. He's pleased with his evil plan. He might be a little buzzed, too.

"Who called you?" You ask.

"Steve."

"Overcome by his conscience," Two-Bit says.

"One we didn't even know he had," Ponyboy mumbles.

You ask Darry, "Am I in trouble?"

"You're home, aren't you?" He says, shaking his head. "I would like that to be the last time I ever see you return from the bar with Tim Shepard. I'm going to hold you to that."

"No worries," you say. You step around Two-Bit and climb the stairs to the porch. You've reached the front door and are about to step inside when you hear Darry say:

"Hey, Pony, who was it you said called?"

"Hey, 'Rina," Ponyboy shouts. "Someone called for you."

Your heart leaps in your chest. You spin around and poke your head out the door. Your quick and clumsy reaction draws a frown from Two-Bit.

Ponyboy is smirking. "You actually know someone named Audie?"

_It's better than that_, you think. _I actually know someone named Rodeo_. You were hoping it was Ruby who called, but Rodeo will do.

"What'd he want?" You ask. "Where is he?"

"_Who_ is he?" Darry asks. "That's what I want to know."

You roll your eyes at him. "He's Gil's cousin. Is he here, Pony?"

"He said- no. He said to tell you he'd be down at the Fourth of July. He said he was just checking in and that he hoped you got the letter from Junior…who's Junior?"

"Ruby," you tell him. "Gil is Junior."

"And this guy's what, then- your guardian angel?" Two-Bit asks. He still sounds irritated. "Supposed to be keeping an eye on you while your boyfriend's gone? That doesn't bother you?"

You just shrug at Two-Bit. It doesn't bother you at all. You don't get the feeling that Rodeo is checking on you because he or Ruby doesn't trust you. It makes you feel like you're all in it together somehow. Without Ruby to rope in, what else is Rodeo going to do with his time?

"He's okay," you say more to Darry than Two-Bit. "He ain't like Ruby. He's more like you."

* * *

><p>May 1966<p>

_Look, baby: it's a marina!_

That's what the postcard says- the one Ruby sends you from San Diego. You can picture him seeing the postcard and cracking himself up over it, and it makes you smile.

_I'll be back in a year, then, I guess. You'll be seventeen, thank God. Maybe your brother will let me take you up to Nebraska for a bit. Can't beat the excitement and romance of Nebraska. We'll tell him that's where we're going, and he'll think he's got nothing to worry about. Love you, Gil._

He picked the postcard, you realize, because it's small and he didn't have to elaborate on anything. You can read between the lines that he's scared. He wants to be in Nebraska and he wants to be with you. He doesn't want to think about the year in between. He doesn't want to talk about it.

"What's that?" Soda asks as he passes by on his way to the refrigerator.

"It's a marina," you tell him.

From inside the refrigerator now, he says, "Huh?"

"It's a postcard from Gil. With a picture of the marina in San Diego on it. He thought that was funny."

Soda's head pops up. "Yeah, that is kind of funny. Where'd Dad ever get that name anyway? He never went to any ocean."

"Where'd he get Sodapop?"

"Where'd you think? He was a lot more familiar with soda pop than with large bodies of water."

"Dad told me once it was his way of naming me after Mom. Same first three letters: Margaret, Marina. She never liked her name. He suggested Marjorie first and she shot it down."

"You ain't any Marjorie," Soda says, emerging victorious from the kitchen with an apple and a slice of cake.

You think of Ruby's immediate reaction to hearing your name- he said it suited you.

"Gil said it suited me- my name."

"Yeah, don't take Dad's word for it or anything. It does suit you 'cause it's like Mom's name but it's not. You're like Mom, but you're not."

You frown. You've never imagined yourself to be a thing like your mother. You don't look like her. You couldn't play by her rules. Had she survived, you can only imagine you'd be screaming at one another day after day.

You can feel your lip quivering. Your mom would hate you. She'd be so disappointed.

"What?" Soda asks, mouth full of cake.

"How am I anything like Mom?"

He never tells you. He just says, "don't" and leaves you to figure it out for yourself. Soda's been antsy since Steve left for boot camp. Steve showed up at the house the night before he left. He spent the night on the floor of your living room bullshitting with Soda until the TV signal shut off. You could hear them talking then, and Steve didn't go home or home to Sandy. He slept on your couch and Soda drove him to the train station in the morning.

Soda will be eighteen in October. You know what he's thinking. You don't ever accuse him of it out loud, but it makes it hard for you to look at him. The dream with Ruby where he says he traded places with a guy named Sodapop still scares you. The real Ruby didn't trade places with anyone, but the fact that Soda went to Vietnam in your dream seems to make him fated to it in real life.

"They're both going to go," You blurted out to Sandy one afternoon after school. "They're both going to end up over there."

"Yeah, they're both assholes like that," she says, rubbing her belly.

"I wish they could've met Gil. He'd have told them how awful it is."

"I wish I could've met Gil," she says. "He sounds romantic."

You smile and shake your head. You guess maybe he is, in a goofy sort of way. What's equally romantic and frustrating to you is that he never tried to get in your pants. Some days, you think that makes him sweet. Other days, you wonder why not. Didn't he want to?

You figure he did. He was always kissing you. And then there was that only-slightly cryptic "thank God" about you being seventeen by the time he got back.

"Will you pierce my ears?" Sandy breaks into your thoughts.

"I don't think we should be poking you with any needles while you're pregnant," You tell her.

"We can sterilize the needle, weirdo, and it ain't like they won't be poking me with plenty of needles in the hospital in a few days."

She says the baby has dropped. You didn't know what that meant and she had to explain it to you. Back to the old days when Sandy knew more about everything than you did. This time, though, you're happy to let her be the expert.

"You settle on a name, then?" You ask her.

She smiles. Sandy has the sweetest smile. You could have told Sodapop- and Steve, for that matter- that it masks something else. Behind those pretty lips and the China doll face is a girl who is always scared and always angry because she thinks everything she wants will always be out of reach. Sandy is never satisfied.

"Not Steven Junior," she says. "So, I've narrowed it down to only about a billion other names, I guess. I still like Ruby, but my dad pitched a fit over that one. Said he had an old Aunt Ruby that used to beat him with a belt. So, basically, she taught him everything he knows about parenting. Anyway, Ruby is out. What's your middle name again? Joanne?"

You nod and tell her that Joanne Randall has too many long A sounds. You don't really care though, as long as she's given up on the name Ruby.

The two of you sit out in front of her house and trade names back and forth until the sun goes down. You tell her you have homework. You've given her the names of all the women you work with at Diane's, and Sandy is stuck now on Eliza. You tell her it's a good choice; Eliza's smart.

"Dishes," Darry says to you when you come through the door.

You answer with your standard, "Yes, there are some."

Ponyboy is reading at the dining room table. You cuff him on the side of the head as you walk by.

"I ain't dryin'," he says.

"Sure you are," You tell him. He gets up and follows you.

"She pop that baby out yet?" He asks. Ponyboy can barely hide his dislike and disgust for Sandy these days. You're not so sure you like her much anymore yourself, but his attitude annoys you.

You called him sexist once and he fired back that he didn't think there was anything wrong with girls being more like Mom. Mom was classy, he'd said.

You smiled when he said it and shrugged it off. You'd learned how to do the math- how to figure out beginnings and lengths of pregnancies because no matter how many times Two-Bit told you he had it all under control, it was still Two-Bit you were sleeping with and that made you a little paranoid. When she told you she was "ahead", you did the math for Sandy's pregnancy. No earthshattering discovery there. She was probably just going to have a big baby.

You don't know what made you do it- probably boredom- but the real curiosity was when you took a closer look at your mom's pregnancy with Darry. Your parents had only been married for seven months when Darry was born.


	54. Chapter 54

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Fifty- Four-

Rodeo does what Rodeo says, and Rodeo had said he'd be back in July.

It's June. When you hear a tap on the front window of Diane's and look up to see him, your heart stops beating. You don't need to go out and talk to him to know why he's here a month early. He steps away from the glass and you think he might just walk away if you don't move to go outside, but he stands there and waits.

You tell Shirley- with all the voice you can muster- that you need a minute. You're shaking your head already as you go through the door, almost daring him to say it:

"He's gone," Rodeo tells you without any kind of a greeting. "I guess it was a couple of weeks ago, but they just got the word to my uncle. Boy barely made it off the air transport. I guess he made them wait for him long enough."

You start to sob. Rodeo isn't as cavalier as Ruby. He isn't going to touch you on the street in full view of everyone. He raises his hands in the air around you, like he's trying to contain your grief. Failing to do that, he steps past you and pokes his head into the salon.

You hear him say to Eliza, "I'ma take her for a walk. Alright, ma'am? We'll be right back."

He's back next to you again. He tugs at your elbow and says, "Come on, come on," in a soft voice. You follow him, your vision blurred with tears.

He gets you as far as a covered bus stop on the other end of the block. Once inside, you expect some attempt to comfort you- which you may or may not accept- but instead he sinks down on the bench and starts to cry hard himself.

"I told him to go," he says. "I told him he had to…I told him all them dreams and Indian stuff that was just the old man talking and didn't they beat that out us in the boarding school? We ain't supposed to believe that stuff anymore. I thought I didn't. I told him it was just old Indians talking and we ain't like that anymore."

He looks up at you with big, helpless eyes. "Teach me to bet against the old people, won't it?"

You wipe your eyes and lean back against the shelter wall.

"He said he was going to go anyway," you tell him. "He would've gone even if you didn't tell him."

"Shit, told me he was going to stay here with you," Rodeo says. "I'm sorry, my girl. I talked him out of it. Told him he had to be responsible, finish his obligation and then he could come back. I didn't believe what my uncle said."

There will be days- sometimes just flashes in the days to come- when you'll hate Rodeo. You'll feel genuine hatred for him. In this moment, though, you know already that you'll never be able to make it stick.

You kneel down in front of him and wipe the tears off his cheeks with your thumb. He starts a little, like you shouldn't be touching him, and then he shakes his head and smiles. It's a familiar move- the head shake. Ruby did it when he couldn't find the words. It must run in their family.

"I told him that…he was my cousin, but we was raised together- his old man raised me- and so Junior's my brother. He's my brother, and you're his girl, and now he's dead. I told him I'd look after you."

You frown. You don't get it. You figure it's just Rodeo thinking he has to be in charge of everybody.

"It's not your fault," You tell him. "You don't have to feel like you have to do anything."

"That's not why. It _is_ my fault, but that's not why. He's my brother and now I got to take care of you. I don't know how to make you understand."

He doesn't try, not in words anyhow. That's probably the most Rodeo will ever say to you at one time again ever. He doesn't talk much after that. Ruby was the talker. Rodeo just does, and you begin to see- although it will take years- that it makes him perfect. He shares Ruby's mannerisms and his dark eyes, but Rodeo is the responsible one. He isn't a thrill-a-minute, but he's kind and he takes his new role seriously.

You take yours seriously, too. It must go both ways, you figure: he's Ruby's brother, you were Ruby's girl, and now Ruby's dead. You're supposed to take care of Rodeo too.

* * *

><p>A package comes for you a week later. It's postmarked from Macy. You recognize Rodeo's handwriting on the brown paper. You don't open it right away. You can't make yourself tear into it like you did the letter.<p>

"Whatchya got?"

Darry's voice startles you. He's standing in your doorway with a screwdriver.

"It's from his cousin," you tell him. "I don't know what it is."

Darry nods, restraining himself from asking- for the billionth time- if you're alright. You've told him over and over that Ruby told you this was going to happen the first time you met. It isn't an answer, and you're not alright. You just don't know what else to say.

"Help me with this," Darry says. He's dragged your bedroom door back into the hall. "Hold 'er steady and I'll screw it back on."

You nod and lay the package on your bed. Darry lifts the door into place on the hinges and you hold it while he screws it back into the doorframe.

"I'm a little nervous about this," he says.

"Why's that?"

"I don't like the idea of you hiding away in there all alone. Whatever it is you've been up to the last couple of days, it's only going to make me more nervous if I can hear you and not see you."

What you've been doing that has Darry so on edge can only be described as purging. You've been throwing out your stuff. None of it seems important. A lot of it is clothes that don't fit you anymore. Some of them were your mother's- and you're taller now than she was and you'll never have her curves. You kept all that stuff when she died, and then when you got back from Oklahoma City because you felt like it connected you. None of it connects you to Ruby, though. You bagged it all up and took it to a church with a clothing bank.

"I ain't going to do anything stupid," you tell Darry because you think that's what he's driving at.

"You're going to be walking around here buck naked if you keep giving away your clothes. I'm sure plenty of the neighborhood boys would be delighted, but I'm sure you can understand my concern."

He finishes with the hinges. You let go of the door and he pushes it back and forth to make sure it's straight.

"Like it never left," you say.

He nods towards your bed. "What'd your buddy send you?"

You frown. Referring to Rodeo as your buddy confuses you. Even after his outpouring and declaration that he'd watch out for you, you didn't really expect to hear from him again.

You sit down on the bed and Darry sits across from you on your window sill. You tear off the papers slowly, as if you might save it. A note on yellow paper falls out. Wrapped up with it are three small cases, like the kind jewelry is kept in. You hand those to Darry and open the note.

_Miss Marina,_

_These were Junior's. My uncle gave them to me, but I wander around too much. They'll be safer with you. One of these days, I'll tell you what he got them for. I'd guess he never told you. He never talked about it._

_The earrings are for you. He asked my sister to make them, but she didn't get them finished until after Junior went over. Now you're a little Indian girl._

_Fourth of July,_

_AWF_

"Holy shit," Darry mumbles.

You look up, wondering if the earrings are really that great. Darry has opened up the cases. The earrings were inside one of them, but he's set them aside on your dresser. You reach over and take them. They're hoops, bigger than the ones you're currently wearing, beaded all the way around in different shades of green like your eyes.

You start to take your earrings out to put the ones from Ruby in.

"What?" You say to Darry.

"Well, he must've got this one when he was killed," he says. He turns one of the cases around. It contains a purple heart. "But I don't know what the second one is for. I'd guess he got wounded on his first tour too. He ever mention that?"

You shake your head. "Rodeo says he never talked about it."

"Well, that's my best guess. And this…" He hands you the third case. "Rodeo's going to have to fill us in on this one, too."

You take the case from Darry. It's another medal- one you haven't seen before.

"What is it?" You ask Darry.

"It's a silver star. They give 'em out for acts of bravery in battle. He must've done something heroic."

You cock your eyebrow at Darry.

"Surprise you?"

He shakes his head. "Actually, no. If I had any misgivings about him…and you…it's that I got the impression that he was more comfortable over there than he was back here. Back here, he was drifting. He'd become a very good soldier to the point where he didn't know how to live in our world anymore. If you'd stayed together- if you'd had the opportunity- it would have been rough on you, 'Rina."

"Well, it's pretty rough on me now, too," you tell him.

"I know," he says. "Those are nice earrings. They look good on you. Match your eyes."

"Your's too," you tell him. "You can borrow them sometime."

"I'll keep that in mind. Actually, I was thinking you should take some of the vast income you've acquired and get yourself some decent clothes. One's that fit. You can build a wardrobe around your earrings. Or something. One of your coworkers can advise you."

You shrug, and Darry stands up. He closes the cases with the medals in them and sets them on your dresser. He leans down and kisses your forehead.

"Open or shut?" He asks, rapping on the door on his way out.

"Don't matter," you tell him, and then- because he wants to hear you say that something matters, "Leave it open."

You won't be staying. You have somewhere you need to go. You can pick out your own clothes, but- hard as Darry's trying- there's only one other person you know who could understand how you're feeling right now.

You wish to hell you were allowed to drive. It's going to be one long bus ride over to the south side of town.


	55. Chapter 55

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

It's a short chapter. I was re-reading some of my old stuff, and one thing I liked was how short some of the chapters were. I've gotten away from that. This one, however, is old school.

I see this as the second-to-last chapter, but I could be wrong.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Fifty-Five-

The reason you haven't seen her around the salon is that Sylvia has stopped being a platinum blonde. Her natural hair color is darker- mousey, not as dark as yours. There is nothing dramatic about her appearance when she opens the door. She looks like somebody's mom- which she is- and somehow prettier than she ever was all made up.

She raises an eyebrow- still neatly shaped but not filled in with pencil- at you.

"I don't know if you remember me," you begin.

"How could I forget," she says with a little smirk. "Jean Seberg."

She steps aside and lets you come in. Her parent's house is smaller than Marla's and there is no housekeeper. It's dark and the woodwork is heavy. There are paintings on the walls. They look real. Somewhere, there's a record player playing Ella Fitzgerald. Your mother and Colleen love Ella Fitzgerald. You associate her music with more mature women than yourself.

"You look like you need a drink," Sylvia says. "You want a glass of water? Or something a little more substantial?"

You realize she's offering you alcohol. You tell her you'll just have some water.

You follow her when she goes to the kitchen. Since you were usually in a chair when you saw her at the salon, you've forgotten how much taller you are than she is. She's compact- short and curvy.

"Okay, I'm a little confused as to why you're here, Marina. Marina, right?"

You don't want to hear your name. It reminds you of _look, it's a marina_ written on that postcard.

"Something happened to me. I figured you'd understand."

It sounds weird saying it out loud, like you're obsessed with her. Like you've been following her. For a while, you guess, you were. She should have been someone who disappeared from your life, but you've never really stopped thinking about her. If you were her, you'd have the creeps.

She cocks her head.

"Something like Veronica?"

"Who's Veronica?"

She grins. "Someone has to have told you. My daughter- she's Veronica. Are you knocked up? Is that why you're here?"

You shake your head. "I had a boyfriend and he died."

The smirk leaves her face. She takes a step back from you and thinks before she says anything more.

"What happened?"

"He was killed in Vietnam."

"Were you two serious?"

"I don't know. We never really got a chance to get there, I guess."

She nods. "That I understand."

"What do I do now?"

"Shit," she says, shaking her head. "You mean what did I do? I cried a hell of a lot, and threw some stuff at the wall, and cursed him for daring to think there was something more important he had to do than be with me. Then I packed it up and went back to the people who would take me back no matter what."

This surprises you. According to Tim, Sylvia's parents threw her out.

"How'd you know where to find me?" She asks.

She doesn't seem the least bit surprised when you tell her, "Tim."

"Yeah- you and him…the only people who had a harder time letting Dally go than I did. Some days I wish Shepard would just fall off the face of the earth so I could forget." She shrugs and smiles a little. "Some days, I'm the one who calls him."

You wonder what Sylvia calls Tim for, but you keep the question to yourself. Two-Bit once said he'd have bet money on her making a play for Tim after Dally died. Your first instinct is that it's sexual, but then you figure it must be something more for one or the other of them to cross that bridge to be together.

"No," Sylvia says, as if she's reading her thoughts. "I'm not with Tim. We have a few drinks now and then. He doesn't want a seven-year old daughter, and I don't want…I don't want a nineteen-year old son."

"You decided you wanted this instead?" It comes out sounding like an accusation. You duck your eyes to show her that you really didn't mean it that way.

"I decided I wanted my daughter. I just happen to be one of the lucky ones, I guess. In my case, all this comes with her."

She steps away from the sink and walks past you. When you don't immediately follow, she looks back. You follow her through the house and out to the back yard. The grass is dark green and thick. There's a brick veranda with iron chairs and a table. There's a dollhouse there, too, and a little girl is playing with it. She looks up when the two of you come outside.

Sylvia gives her a wink. The girl looks away smiling. It's like they have some kind of secret between them.

"So you never made a go with Curly," she says, sitting down in one of the chairs. "God, he was hot for you for a while. Used to carry on about you, but I didn't put it together until after I'd cut your hair a few times. He was quite verbal about his disappoint with your hair and my role in it."

She lights a cigarette, grinning. She holds it out to you and then lights another for herself.

"No, not Curly. Two-Bit Mathews for a while…"

"God, why?" Sylvia makes a face. "I supposed there's no accounting for what attracts people. I'm one to talk. Sounds like you moved on from him though…"

You nod.

"Thank God for that. You're cooler than that, girl. You deserve a man who wants to take care of you, but has the good sense to step back and let you do things for yourself. I suppose every girl deserves that."

Maybe it's the sun on the bricks and metal of the veranda, but you can feel your face growing hot. She's made you blush by telling you that you're cool. All you feel right now is lost, and you feel like it's written all over for you everyone to see.

"Those are some bad-ass earrings," Sylvia says.

"My boyfriend…"

"Yeah? That's cool. Dally never gave me shit. Well, he…" She looks to her daughter to make sure the little girl isn't paying attention. "He gave me something once, but it was easily cleaned up with antibiotics."

Your eyes widen. She rolls hers.

"I don't ever want to do it again," you tell her. You realize that wasn't entirely clear and rephrase it: "I don't ever want to go out with another boy."

"You will, or so they tell me. So far as 'doing it' goes, I could go for some of that," she says and winks at you. "But I don't want to go out with anyone now either. It hasn't even been a year. I feel like I'm just now starting to get my head together."

You nod down at the table. You think you get it. You had expected to find her bounced back from Dally and moving on, but she's telling you there's no bouncing to it. It's more like a slow crawl.

"You haven't said much," she says.

"I'm just thinking."

"Okay, well, you keep thinking, Curtis. I got to get this girl ready to visit her dad's. So, I'm booting you out, but when you got something to say, you come back, alright?"

"Is that okay?"

"I just said it was, didn't I? I still talk to Tim. Why not you? Talking to you makes it almost sound like I have things figured out. You'll have me convinced of that for the rest of the day."

* * *

><p>You hardly see Sandy after she has the baby- Eliza- but you begin to see Sylvia almost every week. It's like therapy, she says. It seems almost like she knows from experiences. She starts to come around the salon again- not to get her hair dyed, but just to hang out. She brings Veronica sometimes, too. Shirley and Theresa spend their spare moments french braiding the little girl's hair and putting make-up on her. Before they leave, Sylvia always makes her wash the make-up off.<p>

The better you get to know her, the less you feel in awe of her. Dally liked that, you figure- being in awe of her. You did once, but now you prefer being on somewhat equal ground. She's still a Soc and you're a greaser girl, although you're not even sure about that anymore. You got your own thing going, as Dally would say. What that is, you're not quite sure yet, but it seems to be out there. The more time you spend with Sylvia and the farther the two of you get away from losing Dally and Ruby, the more things begin to seem to possible.


	56. Chapter 56

SE Hinton owns it.

**Hey Darlin', Do You Gamble?**

Farther along we'll know all about it  
>Farther along we'll understand why<br>So, cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine  
>We'll understand this, all by and by<br>- W.A. Fletcher, "Farther Along"

Fifty-Six-

July 4, 1966

It was your mother's favorite hymn. You sang it at the funeral. Everyone around you sang while you and your brothers mumbled your way through. It struck you then- and the tears began to roll down your cheeks- that the hymn addresses brothers- boys and men. It offered no words of encouragement for a sister or a little girl.

You recognize it when you hear Rodeo humming it to himself when you come upon him leaning against the fence at the arena. It's the Fourth of July, and he's back in town just like he said he would be. All of your brothers came with you, but they hang back in the stands while you go searching for Rodeo.

"Can't get that song out of my head," he tells you.

"I know it. My mom used to sing it to us."

"They sang it at Junior's funeral. It was the only part that made sense. He never went to church."

You wonder aloud if Rodeo goes to church. You've been scared of it yourself since the Baptist home.

"When I was a kid, when my mom was alive," he says. "You know each reservation was assigned a church?"

You shake your head. You didn't know that.

"Yeah, they gave each church a reservation to convert. We got the Presbyterians, or they got us. Made us convert, sent us away to the schools. My side of the family went along with it. Junior's old man didn't. My dad took off when I was little, and when I my mom died, I went to live with my Uncle. I couldn't hardly speak my language. I understood it because I heard it, but I couldn't carry on a conversation. Got to that house, though, and no one would speak English to me. Scared the shit out of me at first because my mom was so afraid of that stuff. She said they'd take us away, adopt us out, if she didn't raise us to act like white people.

"Whether that wasn't true or Junior's dad just didn't care, I don't know. Never went to church again after that, unless I was at school. Junior was a trip at services there 'cause he didn't know what to do- didn't know the routine of it- and he'd start goofing off, standing and sitting at random times. They started tossing him out until they figured out that's what he wanted. Then they'd make him stay no matter what he did. Christ, one time, we must've been…I was maybe in seventh grade, so he was in eighth. We couldn't sit together 'cause we had to sit with our class. I was spacing off, staring at my feet, and something hits me in the side of the head. Goddamn, if he wasn't making paper airplanes out of all the hymn sheets. And he was so goddamned sneaky- the matrons couldn't figure out where they was coming from. They had to shut down the whole church service. Threatened us within an inch of our lives. I think the whole school missed dinner that night. He was such an idiot."

Rodeo smiles, though, as he looks out across the arena.

"We got in a fight once 'cause I was trying to get him to tow the line. He was going to run away from Haskell, and I told him he had to stay put because every time he did, me and all his brothers and sisters would get in trouble. We traded some words and he told me I wasn't a real Indian. I never been so broken up in all my life. It's like he knew just where to hit me, you know? Biggest thing I had to be insecure about, or so I thought then.

"So I clocked him. Knocked him on his ass. He was a year older, but I can't remember a time when I wasn't bigger. He used to have to wear my hand-me-down clothes. That scar under his eye- that was me. Clocked him, and he spun around and hit the edge of a dresser or something. Started bleeding all over the place. He just laughed, told me 'damn, cousin, now you got no choice. You got to come with me 'cause I need you to protect me'. That's the way it always was. When they took me in, he was supposed to be my big brother and look after me, but it was always me looking after him. He never did a damn thing but get us thrown in jail and drag us all over creation looking for rodeos."

"You seem to like rodeos okay," You say.

"I do. Wouldn't have never known it if it wasn't for Junior, though. I sort of came to accept that he'd eventually lead me to where I was supposed to be, even if it took some bullshit wild goose chase to get there."

He shrugs. He begins to play with a cigarette that he had tucked behind his ear. He taps it down on the fence and then weaves it over his fingers and back again.

"That's why that song's in my head. We had to have a Christian funeral to please a couple of my aunties. That was the only hymn I could come up with that made sense. They were so tickled when I suggested it 'cause they thought I was coming back into the fold. Hate to break it to them, but Uncle raised me and that ain't going to happen. It was sort of subversive of me I guess. I don't hear that song no more and think of God; I think of Junior."

He turns away to light up. It bothers you some that you notice how good he looks. Wearing just his jeans and an undershirt, skin tanned so dark you can barely see the blue-black ink tattooed on his arms. You try to look at the designs out of the corner of your eye- without appearing to be looking: one appears to be a horseshoe. The others are old and of poor enough quality that they've faded beyond recognition.

He cocks his head towards the stock pens. "Look out- here they come. 'less you want to get dirt kicked on you."

You take a step back and Rodeo hops off the fence. The steers fill the chute, followed by a pack of young boys with sticks. They used to give Soda that job, years ago, when your dad took you to rodeos. They'd "hire" four or five young boys to drive the cattle through the chutes, always under the eye of someone older and more experienced. You'd guess that, at the moment, that person is Rodeo. He keeps his eye on them until the cattle are in the next pen and the boys are over the fence.

"You got your stuff in the mail then," he says.

You're wearing the earrings again. You nod.

"My sister, man, she'll bead on anything that don't get up and run. I don't know how she gets 'em to go around those hoops."

"They're beautiful. Everyone's jealous of them at school."

He smiles and shakes his head.

"Good to know," he says. He takes a step away from the fence. He digs in his pocket and produces a bracelet that matches the earrings.

You put that on and thank him. He isn't looking at you, though. He points with his chin towards the stands.

"That your brother?"

"All three of them."

"You look like the big one. He the one read Junior the riot act?" Rodeo smiles a little at whatever story Ruby must've told him about Darry. "I like that guy. Thinks like I do. I told Junior I'd kill him if he tried to get you in the sack. Your brother can thank me for that."

You roll your eyes. "I'm sure he would love to."

But neither of you makes a move to present Darry with the opportunity. Not just yet. You stand by the fences looking out, not looking at each other. Clueless.

It was Ruby who brought you and Rodeo together, but it was Ruby who distracted you from one another too. You're both too distracted by him still to think much about it. For now, you're bound by Rodeo's promise to his cousin to look after you. You're aware that Rodeo looks cute in an undershirt and jeans. He asked his sister to make you a bracelet to match your earrings.

Farther along, you'll understand why.

_The End_


	57. Chapter 57

SE Hinton owns Tim Shepard and The Outsiders.

a/n: Someone asked about a sequel. I told them I thought I was done, but it turns out I am still kind of stuck on these characters. I'm writing this as a multi-chapter epilogue. I hope it satisfies.

**Epilogue- One**

October 1966

"Marina! Marina, come on!"

You're walking away fast from the sound of the voice which has now gone from calling your name to cursing it. He's supposed to be a nice boy- Soda and Steve both gave him the thumbs up. He comes from a nicer family and a nicer neighborhood than yours. Everyone said he seemed like a nice boy.

Some nice boy: standing on the steps on Will Rogers in his dress shirt and pants, calling you a little bitch and watching you walk away in the dark.

You yank the corsage he bought you off of your wrist and throw it down on the curb. You hope to hell he saw you do it.

By the time you get to the edge of the parking lot, you're crying. You don't even know why. He ain't worth crying over. What's worth crying over is the thought of going home to Darry, who will be sitting up waiting in his chair for you to not make your eleven o'clock curfew. He'll expect you to be a little drunk. He'll look you over for hickies or signs that you clothing has been removed and put back on in the dark. He'll sniff the air for evidence that you've been smoking weed or in the company of those who do. He'll give you _the look_ and invoke your mother's name.

No doubt Darry's had a couple of beers and has been working up to his post-homecoming tirade since the Nice Boy met you at the door and tied the corsage on your wrist barely two hours ago. If you go home at eight-thirty- sober, pissed, and crying- he will have wasted a hell of a lot of energy.

You can't do that to Darry, and so you keep walking.

Five or six blocks down- not that you're counting- and a pair of headlights crawls up behind you. You listen for the tell-tale soft squeal. Nice Boy's car had a loose belt- an easy fix, but not one he'd taken the time on. It squeaked when he picked you up and it will only get worse.

No squeak. Whoever thinks he's creeping up behind you is packing more horses. He probably races this car, and this car probably wins.

While you're busy thinking about it, the driver lays in on the horn and about scares you out of your pretty, little dress. You wheel around and look for something to throw.

"That's a good look for you, Curtis Girl. Myself, I would have maybe gone for something with sleeves on a night like this…"

It's too late to wipe your eyes, so you rub your bare arms and prove Tim Shepard right. You silently curse yourself- the dress had a wrap. Evie made it for you and you abandoned it. It will probably still be at the school on Monday.

Tim is not alone in his car otherwise he might have called attention to your tear-stained cheeks. He might have even expressed concern in that way that he has of sounding irritated with you for making him feel concern. As it is, he's got a buddy in the front seat with him and a another guy and a couple of girls in the back seat.

"Where you going, kid?" He asks.

You shrug. "Where you going?"

The guy in the front passenger seat smirks in approval. Without being told, he pops the door handle and gets out. You nod and give him a sheepish smile as you slip past and slide in between him and Tim.

It isn't out of concern that Tim wraps his arm around you. He's either trying to irritate you or one of the girls in the back. It's working. It makes you want to cry all the more. You wish he was a guy like Soda or even Two-Bit who you could cave in on and cry to. Tim is not that guy. Tim's answer to your apparent conundrum is:

"We were just driving around looking for some action. Want us to beat the shit out of him?"

You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand and shake your head. You sneak a look up at the guy on the passenger side. He must be as big as Darry. His arm is resting on the door. He's turning an unlit cigarette over between his fingers. His fist is like a brick. You so-called Nice Boy wouldn't stand a chance.

"You'd do that for me, Shepard?" You ask.

"I do it for _me_, honey. I'm bored as shit. Tommy here ain't much the conversationalist."

The one on the other side of you must be Tommy. He mutters for Tim to fuck himself. Tim cackles. He fiddles with the radio. The last time you were in a car- actually Buck Merrill's truck- with Tim, Jimmy Rogers was playing and Tim wasn't happy about it. This time, he's found himself some Gene Vincent. He hums along a few bars and then asks you,

"So, what happened? He try to get in your pants? I have a hard time believing that's what's got you high-tailing it off into the dark."

Tommy raises his eyebrows at you. You just got 100x more interesting to him. You punch Tim in the thigh.

He cackles. "That ain't what I meant. What I meant was, given the reputation of myself and Tommy here, I can't believe that you'd get in a car with us if that's the kind of shenanigans you was hoping to avoid."

"He was just a dick, that's all," You say.

"Let me clue you in to someone, sweetheart," one of the girls in the back offers you her drunken wisdom. "They're all dicks when they don't get what they want. Throw down and tantrum like two-year olds."

"You throw down and tantrum like a two-year old when you don't get what you want, Al?" Tim calls to the male passenger in the back seat.

"Not when I get what I want," he replies. You can hear him mumbling to the girl on his lap then, asking her if he's going to get what he wants. You hear her giggle. It begins to dawn on you that you're in a world of shit.

Maybe you should have them turn back to the school and beat the living hell out of your date. You don't really want him to get beat up over this. You sure as hell don't want to watch it happen, but perhaps a diversion is the only thing that's going to get you safely out this car.

You try to reason with Tim anyway: "Shepard, can you take me home?"

"My place or yours?" He pauses and grins at you. "You ain't going to hit me again, are you?"

You smile down at your lap and try to listen to Gene Vincent instead of the couple in the back seat. When that becomes impossible, you ask:

"Where's Curly on this fine evening?"

"You tell me. I was halfway hoping it was him who took you to the dance so's I could clean his clock. Dumb little fucker got a truant officer and three cops sent to my house this morning. I got no beef with the cops myself. I'm a solid citizen of the great state of Oklahoma, but this fucker was sleeping on the couch…" Tim jerks his head in Tommy's direction and continues, "and he's got open warrants in…how many now, fucker?"

"Six," Tommy says.

"Six goddamned counties…and here comes a truant officer and three cops at nine in the goddamned morning. Curly didn't even come home last night. He's hiding out from my ma's old man."

"Which ones?" You ask Tommy just to shut Tim up.

"Which ones of what?"

"Which counties?"

"This 'un, Wagner, Muskogee, McIntosh, Pittsburgh, and Atoka."

"Car chase?" You ask.

Tommy raises an eyebrow and looks a little impressed. "How'd you know?"

"They're all in a line. Highway 62 from here to Muskogee, then 69 to Atoka."

Tommy grins and says to Tim, "My kind of chick. Who's sister did you say she was, Shepard?"

"You don't want none of that noise, man," Tim tells him. "I seen you throw a punch, you fucking fairy. You couldn't take Darry Curtis."

You feel a funny sense of pride and it makes you smile down at your hands. Then you remember Darry- in his chair, twiddling his thumbs, and you remind Tim:

"My home. Can you take me to my house?"

"Clear over there?" He nods back towards the south. "'Tis a long journey, Curtis Girl, and it will require a drink…or six…first. Besides, you owe me a story. You got to tell me what a boy does to make the big, bad Curtis Girl cry. All's I ever get from you is a whole lot of lip."

Tommy smirks again. You can feel his eyes on you. You get the inkling that Tim, in spite of his warning about Darry and his mockery of Tommy's fighting skills, may be trying to set you up. You sneak a look back up at Tommy. He is looking at you- down your top and not in to your eyes, but he has nice eyes himself. You don't like him, but you've already had worse this evening. You'll survive a car ride with him as long as no one suggests you trade spots with the two in the back seat along the way.

"It was dumb," you tell Tim anyway.

"Of course it was. Come on, don't make me beg you now."

"Where are you going?" You ask him, although you're already pretty sure you know.

"Nowhere. We're just going."

_-Hey, Johnny, what are you rebelling against?_

_-What'd you got?_

You roll your eyes.

You tell them, "It wasn't so much that he figured I was fast, it was why. He figured I was fast because of the company I used to keep."

"Two-Bit or the Indian kid?" Tim asks.

He must be showing off for Tommy, you figure. You know Tim, who is two years younger and a world less experienced, has no place calling Gil Ruby a "kid". Tim probably knows that too. Ruby stayed at Bucks once or twice; they most likely crossed paths. Maybe Tim got the story from Curly or Soda and Steve and then a modified version from Two-Bit. Tim is Tim so he got the story from somewhere.

"Gil," you say. "Not Two-Bit."

Tim hmms.

"What's the story with you and the Indian kid?" Tommy asks.

"Shut your beak and she'll tell it," Tim snaps at him. He pokes the lighter in and waits, unlit cigarette between his lips, for you to tell them why you walked away from your homecoming date over a dead Gil Ruby.


	58. Chapter 58

SE Hinton owns Tim Shepard.

**Epilogue- Two**

When school had started up again in the fall, you'd found your place in the world in the strangest place imaginable. There was no escaping Home Ec this time; you and Marla had wiggled your way into your library internships sophomore year. This year, you had to take it. To yours and everyone's surprise, you were good at it.

Not at cooking so much, but you fell right into to the sewing. You could sew just about anything Mrs. Trout threw at you and make alterations by eye-ballin' the garment. You became the darling of Mrs. Trout, and you'd never been any teacher's favorite before. Neither one of you could quite believe it the first time she said to another student, "Have Marina help you. She's quite adept at this."

"Wait a minute," Tim Shepard interrupts you. "Are you going to tell me a story about Home Ec? 'Cause if you are, I'm going to drive us into a tree."

"You wanted a story. I'm setting the stage. School was going good for the first time ever. Maybe I got cocky. It's one of those brought-me-down-to-size stories."

"Well, that's no fun," Tim says.

"No, it ain't," you agree, looking down at your lap. You ask him, "You know Irvin Tucker?"

"Yeah, he's a pussy," Tim says. "Why? Is it his clock I'm cleaning later tonight? That's not even a challenge, Curtis."

Irvin asked you to Homecoming via a game of high school telephone that included Marla and Soda and Evie. You didn't have any classes with him, so actually speaking to him took almost a week.

"Do you have a dress?" Was the first question he asked you.

"I'll make one," You told him.

He frowned and asked, "You haven't started one yet?"

"I hadn't talked to you. I wasn't sure…"

He asked you to go to the football game with him the next evening. Other than Two-Bit, who you've known all your life, you'd never been on a date before. Going out with Ruby was more like a covert mission. This guy was coming to your door, shaking Darry's hand, and taking you away in his car. You didn't have much to say about it, and he commented on that.

"You're quiet," Irvin told you. "I saw you that day in the cafeteria- when you popped Evie. I guess it made me think you'd be a talker."

You grinned at that. "Sorry. I guess I was trying to get Evie to stop talking. I didn't say anything back to her that time either."

"All action," he says. "I like that."

You wondered what that meant. You went to the football game and he told you about football even though he had to know that your oldest brother was Mr. Football and you knew the game pretty well yourself. An hour and a half into the evening and you were sure you didn't like him. Everyone was telling you, though: _move on. Give it a chance. Just hang out for a while_. You told yourself that you couldn't compare him to Gil Ruby. You had to give the guy a chance.

It was Darry's fault, really, for pushing you. And goddamned Rodeo Fremont for not letting you forget. He didn't go away after the Fourth of July like you figured he would. He comes around maybe every month. He sends you a letter or a postcard during the times in between.

You almost prefer the letters to his actual presence. When he's there- and Darry lets him stay at the house- he barely says five words to you. He talks to Darry mostly, and you guess you like that. You like that Darry seems to have made a friend who transcends the old gang.

Soda is damned-near head over heels in love with the guy. He's missed riding since your father made him quit, and Rodeo's lifestyle seems like a slice of pure heaven to him. When Rodeo's in town, Soda follows him around like a puppy.

"He's trying to get in your pants," Tim interrupts you again. He sounds confident when he says it.

"No, he aint," you tell him. "He doesn't want anything."

Rodeo sends you things with his letters sometimes- another beaded necklace, a feather from some kind of bird that you don't have any of in Oklahoma. This last time, he sent a sliver of a horse's hoof.

_Keep this for me_, he wrote to you_. It's from Junior's horse. I had to get rid of her. She was always throwing guys and trying to bite the kids. It's the last thing we got left of the sonofabitch._

He doesn't say whether "got rid of her" means he sold her or dispatched of her somehow. He also doesn't say if the sonofabitch in question is Gil or his horse. It sounds to you like he's trying to shed the things that remind him of his cousin.

"That sound like someone trying to get into a girl's pants?" You ask Tim. "You ever send a gift a piece of a horse's hoof through the US mail?"

Tim frowns. "No, it doesn't. That's just weird."

You make yourself a dress for Homecoming, and that you do enjoy. It's orange and maybe a little bit daring. It has narrow spaghetti straps that leave your shoulders almost bare. When you show it off in Home Ec, Evie says she has a wrap you can borrow because you can't be walking around outside in the cold like that. Marla tells you later it's because she's jealous- you have beautiful shoulders, she says.

Darry makes you wear the wrap on the evening of the dance. You take it off in the car, safely out of Darry's sight, and you can feel Irvin stare. You feel older than him, more mature. Maybe that's the difference, you think. So much death has changed you. You're still the same lost and awkward Marina, but now you're just a little bit harder than the other kids too. Your brothers are that way, especially Ponyboy. He isn't any normal kind of freshman.

"You look really pretty," Irvin tells you.

"Thank you." Inside, the feeling is welling up in your stomach_: I don't want to go, I don't want to go_. You don't want to go with this dance. You take a deep breath and push it back down.

You get to the school. He parks the car and opens the door for you. He presents you with a corsage to wear on your wrist. It's a bright blue dyed carnation.

"Sorry," he says. "It doesn't really match."

"Yes, it does. It's perfect. It contrasts."

He looks at you like you're out of your mind. He doesn't know anything about color. You don't feel like explaining it. You force a smile at him instead and he takes you by the hand.

You do like the flower. It's a light blue, almost teal, and it looks just right with the dress. Irvin just chose it on a whim, you'd guess, but he did a good job. Maybe there is hope for him.

The two of you climb the steps to the front doors. Irvin takes a deep breath as he reaches to open one. He looks apologetic.

"Are you nervous?" You ask.

He nods. "My buddies- they said a girl like you'd never give me the time of day."

"A girl like me? What am I like?"

"Hell, they don't even know. They said you're fast, kind of wild. I never seen that, but that's what they told me. I figured- hell, I just thought you were pretty, but…you know…with the hair and the dating that boy, that Indian boy…that's what they said, but you seem like a real nice girl in spite of it."

"In spite of it?"

"Well, yeah, like I think maybe you got it all out of your system now."

It's not out of your system. There was never anything in your system. He makes it sound like you were on a drunk. You'd have to be, right, to be with a guy like Ruby? That's what Irvin thinks.

"So, I don't get it," you say. "Did you ask me out because you thought I was fast and you were going to get some, or because you thought I was really a nice girl underneath it all?"

"I told you, I just thought you were pretty."

You nod and play along. "And who doesn't like to walk around with a pretty girl on his arm? You must've been pleasantly surprised when it turned out I was so quiet."

"Kind of."

"Maybe I just didn't have anything to say to you."

Irvin straightens up and lets go of the door. It closes with a bang, but no one inside hears over the sound of the music.

He gets it now that you're mad.

"I don't get it- why're you so pissed?" Tommy butts in.

"Because he doesn't know who she is," Tim tells him. "Hell, she don't know either, but she knows he doesn't know. Right, Curtis?"

"I never had anyone just look at me like an object before, and I found I didn't like it. I grew up with boys, and they always treated me like one of them. I got all dolled up, and this one wanted to treat me like a doll."

"I still don't get it," Tommy mumbles. "So, you walked away over that?"

You shake your head. "No, I walked away when he told me he'd thought I was over it. He said he'd been so pleased when I walked out in my pretty dress and I wasn't wearing those awful Indian beads that I wear to school all the time."

Irvin was referring to the earrings Ruby had his sister make for you, and the matching bracelet Rodeo had brought you at the fourth of July. They're your most prized possessions. You feel pretty when you wear them. They make you feel connected to something, like when you wear your mother's cross necklace that she got on her confirmation.

You look sheepishly up at Tim. "I got mad. I just walked away. I just started walking."

"He's right: you're all action. And now you're here. Were you purposefully walking in the direction of beer or was that just a stroke of luck on your part?"

There's a jolt as the car hits the gravel. Up ahead, you can see a hundred cars and trucks parked in a hap-hazard jumble around Buck's house. When Tim stops the car, you slide out on Tommy's side because it's easier than maneuvering around the steering wheel. Tommy must take it for a sign, though, because he waits for you.

The couple in the back stays there, and you leave them behind.

Buck's so-called Road House appears to be humming in the cold, evening air. It's a beacon of sweaty, smoky warmth. The bodies are packed in tight. Someone bumps you into Tommy and he puts his arm around your shoulder. Tim brushes past you, signals "two" at Tommy and disappears in the direction of the kitchen.

There's a Wanda Jackson song playing on the record player. Someone bumps it and the scratch grates on your nerves. So does the round of cussing that follows. Someone puts a Paul Revere record on and that meets with more protests. Bobby Vinton takes its place. He's singing "Crazy" and he's not anything like Patsy Cline, but the tempo calms the crowd. It's an excuse to snuggle up.

"You want to dance?" Tommy asks you. When you look doubtful, he says, "Come on. I bet you didn't get your homecoming slow dance."

He's right. You take a quick look round to see if there's anyone who's going to disallow it. You swallow hard and tell Tommy, "sure".

If you give some boys an inch, they'll take a mile, your mother told you once. Colleen Mathews said it too. A smile isn't just a smile. A dance isn't just a dance. It's an invitation to a party that's going on only in his head.

Tommy can dance okay, and you kind of like the way his fingers trail up and down the bare skin between your shoulder blades. He's too tall to wrap your arms around his neck, so you lay one hand on his shoulder and one on his chest. You can feel his heart beating. His chest is rock solid and you figure if Tim is right and the guy can't throw a punch, it doesn't really matter- running up against him must be like hitting a brick wall.

Still, you smile when he takes a step back and twirls you around. You're proud of your dress, and it flutters around your thighs just like you knew it would when you spin.

"That's more like it," he says when he's got you held close again. "About time you smiled."

He touches the corner of your mouth with the back of his hand. You try to duck away, but he's got you. You can feel a nervous flutter start in your stomach, but you can't tell yet if it's good or if it's bad. When he kisses you for the first time, all you can think is: "this guy is not taking the threat of Darry Curtis very seriously."

The song ends and another slow one begins. He's patient enough to dance through it. It's not until the end of the second song that he suggests the two of you take it upstairs.

And you want everything else to go away- Homecoming, Gil Ruby's ghost, Tim and your brothers and their friends- so you go for it. Sylvia had mused about it, even suggested it once: just fool around a little and get it over with. Get the last boy out of your head.

"We ain't like them," she'd said of the boys. "They can shut the thought of us out like a light. Seems we need another one of them to get over the last one."

And right now, after tonight, you just want to be over the last one. You shrug at Tommy, and you can't help but giggle when he lifts you up with an arm around your waist to haul you up the stairs.


	59. Chapter 59

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Tim.

**Epilogue- Three**

You've been in this room before- more than once waking up Tim Shepard. The bed is unmade and you wonder how long ago it was used and for what. Your dream of waking up Ruby here is still as fresh in your mind as the real memories. Your heart sinks inside you.

You turn back to Tommy and say, "I think I ought to go home."

"Is that what you think?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just…"

That same hand that had stroked your chin connects with it hard. It's a backhand and not a full-on punch. If he'd punched you, he'd have broken your jaw. All the same, it sends you sprawling and clawing blindly. You hit the floor and slide on your ass into the metal side frame of the bed. It's going to leave a strange mark. You're aware of thinking that before your eyes focus on Tommy moving towards you.

He swipes down at you, but you kick him in the shin. It barely slows him down. He curses at you and snatches you up by the arm.

"Baby," he says. "You ain't much of a dancer."

"Shepard said you couldn't throw a fucking punch," you whisper back. _What are you doing?_

"I ain't starting throwin' 'em yet. You'll be a lot more fun if I don't put your lights out, but I'll do what I go to do. Your call."

His grip on your arm tightens. He shakes you a little, demanding an answer.

"Alright. Alright. Whatever." You tell him.

"That's more like it," he says. He releases you with a shove and gestures to your dress. "Take it off."

In that moment, you hate your homecoming dress. It's brought you nothing but trouble. You emerged from your cocoon a beautiful butterfly only to get snapped up by a toad's tongue. You'd love to take the dress off- take it off and burn it.

You reach behind you and fumble with the eyelet above the zipper, but your fingers won't work.

"Christ," Tommy grumbles. "Are you stalling or is this for dramatic effect? Turn around."

You shake your head. "I got it."

You have it. No way are you turning your back on him. He might rip the dress off or not bother with it at all. You unhook the clasp and tug the zipper down. You're good with zippers- it glides down smooth and way too quickly.

You hear Tommy unhooking his own belt and you realize you have your eyes closed. When you open them, he has his shirt off too. He's down to his undershirt, and he's taken a step toward you again.

"I ain't going to hurt you, baby," he says.

You look up at him, confused. How can he say that? He already has- there's blood in your mouth and the skin on your back stings where you hit the bed frame.

"What?" He says, irritated.

He reaches out with deceptive tenderness and pushes one of the straps of your dress off of your shoulder. You shiver. Your bottom lip quivers and you start to cry.

Tommy rolls his eyes and strips off his shirt. He sits back on the edge of the bed and reaches for you. He pulls you to him until you're standing between his knees. You can feel his breath against your collarbone. A wave of nausea rolls over you, and you wonder what he'd do if you puked on him.

"Tell you what, honey," he says. "I'll let you choose. You want to take it off now or you want to get down on your knees for me?"

"My brother's going to kill you," you tell him. "And then my other brother's going to kill you."

He smirks. "That doesn't make any sense. I can't be dead twice. Quit talkin' shit and put that pretty mouth to good use."

You hate him. Your whole body feels cold with it.

"I hate you," you tell him.

"Well, I didn't come here to find undying love and devotion. You going to go for it, or do I got to pop you again?"

You don't know where it comes from. It isn't exactly what Sylvia would do, but you find yourself thinking of her, and you know she'd fight.

"You're going to have to hit me again," You tell him.

He pauses, opens his mouth and shuts it again. Then he slaps you. The hit doesn't knock you over this time, but you stumble back a few steps.

"You like that?" He asks you. He stands up again and comes towards you. "You want another one?"

You open your arms and invite it. This time, however, you duck when he swings. He stumbles forward and catches himself on the dresser. The little ceramic lamp on top of it falls and breaks.

"Fuck, baby, look what you did." He says.

He before he can stand up all the way, you claw both of your hands in behind the dresser and push it over on him. It doesn't do much more than slow him down, but it makes plenty of damned noise. There are footsteps on the stairs. It feels like it takes them forever to reach the door.

In the eternity, Tommy stands again and grabs you by the hair. He isn't interested now in subduing you; he's just mad. He pulls you in and then sends you flying back across the room, over the toppled dresser, and against the bed again. He'd have you where he thought he wanted you now, but he knows there isn't time for that. Instead he picks up one of the drawers from the dresser and heaves it at you. You roll out of the way, but it catches you on your arm- another strange bruise you'll have to explain.

A fist pounds on the door outside.

It's Tim Shepard's voice: "Fucker, open up! What are you doing? Buck's having a fit…"

You and Tommy stare at each other wildly. You're both breathing hard, and neither of you wants to give up the advantage and be the first to move.

"Tell him it's all right," Tommy hisses at you. "Tell him we're just playing around."

"My brother's going to kill you," you remind him. Then you shout out to Tim, "Let me out of here. He's beating the shit outta of me!"

Tommy goes for you, but trips over part of the dresser. The door bursts open and Tim tumbles in. He falls over Tommy, and the three of you exchange looks in silence. You stand up over both of them. You zip up your dress. Then you walk out of the room.

You're aware of the eyes on you as you descend the stairs. You think of Scarlett O'Hara coming down the steps of Tera in her beautiful gown. You're never going to know that feeling, you think. This is how you'll be remembered to the crowd at Buck's- torn gown and blood trickling down your chin like you're a fuckin' zombie.

You hear Buck Merril cursing. He meets you before you can reach the door.

"You keep your goddamned mouth shut, girl," he says. "You ain't supposed to be here, you remember that…"

The look you give him in reply is so crazed and wild-eyed that he backs off. He even opens the door for you. Outside, the air has gotten colder. You wish you had a drink in your for the walk home. You welcome the time it's going to take, though. You don't know what you're going to say to Darry now.

"Holy Christ," a voice says from the sidewalk.

"Shit," you say to yourself.

It's Two-Bit. He's just parked his own car and was in the process of stealing the wipers off of the one in front of it.

"What happened to you?" He steps into the circle of light from the streetlight.

"Got in a fight," you tell him. "You don't want to see the other guy."

"Guy? 'Rina, what happened? Are you alright?"

You shake your head and hug yourself, rubbing your arms with your freezing hands. You avoid his eyes.

"I forgot my coat. I'm kind of cold. Can you give me a ride home?"

He starts to protest- he wants to know who was it and how far did he get? You just shake your head. You insist again that you're cold. He keeps asking and you throw your hands up and start to walk.

"No, no, no," he stammers. He reaches for your arm and you strike at him. "Okay, okay…just get in the car. I'll give you a ride. I won't ask no more questions. Come on."

It must nearly kill him to be that quiet, but he keeps his word and doesn't ask you anything on the way home. He fidgets like there's a spider in his shirt, though. He drums his fingers on the wheel and smokes about 30 cigarettes.

When you arrive at the house, Rodeo's truck is parked in front. You curse under your breath. Just what you need: one more person's scrutiny. Rodeo thinks he has to look after you, and he'll take this as a sign that he's failed for sure. You don't know him well enough to know how he's going to handle it.

You walk away from Two-Bit's car, aware that the motor remains running behind you on the street. You cross the yard and walk up the stairs to the porch. If they're in the kitchen you can make a break for your room. You might only have to contend with Darry.

This night just keeps getting worse, though. Darry and Rodeo both are watching TV and drinking beer in the living room. You press your lips together tight and open the door. They both look at you. Neither one says a word.

You avoid Rodeo's eyes. He has narrower, harder eyes than Ruby. His upper lip twitches when he's angry. Right now, you know his lip is twitching, but you can't be sure who he's angry with.

Darry stands up and goes to the window.

"Is that Two-Bit? What happened to the other one?" He says.

"I'm going to bed," you tell him. You don't even acknowledge Rodeo.

"What's going on, Marina?" Darry asks you. He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he curses, gets up and goes outside. For reasons only Darry and Two-Bit himself will ever be able to explain, Two-Bit has waited for him outside. Darry gets in and they disappear into the night. You're alone with Rodeo.

"What happened?" He asks you.

"I'm going to bed," You say again.

He shrugs, but calls after you as you walk past him towards your room: "You know how many sisters I got? Counting my cousins- Junior's sisters?"

You stop moving, but don't answer him.

He says, "I got enough sisters to know when something's happened that ain't supposed to."

You wait for him to elaborate, but you're waiting on the wrong guy. Rodeo doesn't say anything. You walk back towards the front room. You stop short of coming in to the light. You stand where you can see him. He's sitting forward on the couch rolling a cigarette. He's looking at it and not you.

Even so, he says, "you look pretty. I never seen you dressed up like that before."

"Lot of good it did me."

"That wasn't you, my girl. Look at me. I ain't pushing you around, am I? Some guys got no self-control. That's them, ain't you."

You take a step back in to the shadows because the tears are starting to fall down your cheeks.

You say, "It's the dumbest thing in the world: Darry and Two-Bit are going to go tune that guy up. It'll make them feel better and then they'll think I'll feel better too."

"It would make _me_ feel better. What do you want then?"

The first thing in your head: you want your dad. There's no having that, though, so you tell Rodeo: "Like I keep saying- I want to go to bed."

"That's good." He nods.

"Why is that good?"

"I guess…bunch of guys beat the hell out of my sister once. She never would own up to what they did, but all she wanted to do was take baths. I guess I associate that with the worst of the worst. At least you don't want that. My sister couldn't sleep for…I don't know if she does yet."

You shake your head. "No, it wasn't like that. I just got pushed around a little bit. See? The dress is still intact."

You wipe your eyes and step into the circle of light the lamp is making. It's dim, but it still feels like a spotlight to you. You're uncomfortable, but you want to convince Rodeo.

He looks up at you and nods. He lights his cigarette, still raising his eyes to look at you. He takes the first drag and then offers it to you. If you want it, you're going to have to step further in to the light. You shake your head.

"Didn't want to share anyway," he says, and there's a bit of that glint in his eyes that reminds you of Gil. He's teasing you, saying the exact opposite of what he wants. "Fine then. Go to bed."

You start back to your room. Then it dawns on you.

"What are you going to do?" You call to him.

"Gonna smoke a cigarette," he calls back.

"After that."

"Going to go to sleep, get up good and early. Maybe some girl'll make me coffee. Maybe she won't."

"How early is early?" You ask him.

He doesn't answer. You hear the couch creak as he lays back on it. You're still awake again to hear it creak when Rodeo gets up and leaves about twenty minutes later. He takes his truck and returns sometime in the early hours of the morning with Darry.

When you're sure they're both asleep you sit up and set your alarm for five. When it goes off, you shuffle out in to the kitchen. Your entire body aches. You make Rodeo's coffee, take a couple of aspirin and go back to bed.


End file.
